Sacrifices
by RiverofTruth
Summary: Things continue to be amiss in Paris. Though this time it is no Opera Ghost that threatens the happiness of the two lovers. RC. R.A.O.U.L. I give you this.
1. Sacrifices

"You try my patience. Make your choice." He yanked the rope the encircled Raoul's neck. He choked and coughed in futile attempts to breathe. The few breaths he did manage to get were shallow and sounded incredibly pained. Oh God. Has it really come to this? I looked at the man, no not a man, the monster standing before me. He had the smallest smirk on his face. He knew he had me trapped, there was no choice. How could I choose to send the man I loved to his death? There would be no freedom for me. How had I ever thought that this man was an angel?

I looked back at Raoul. My beloved Raoul. His eyes continued to plead with me. They begged me to say no to the Phantom. They told me that having the last words he ever heard be words of love from my lips would mean more than countless years without me. But it was the one thing that I could not concede to him. I remembered our time spent upon the roof, spent singing our love for each other. I hoped that he would always remember that time. I hoped that he knew that I was doing this for him. Please God let him know. I had to tell him. One last time.

"I love you," I mouthed. My lips barely moved. I couldn't risk the Phantom seeing. Raoul went limp in the ropes that bound him. His eyes kept up his desperate plea even as his body admitted defeat. But I knew that he had understood. I kept my eyes fixed upon him for a long moment. I tried hard to fix everything about him in my memory. So I would have a glimpse of heaven while in the depths of hell. His eyes, oh God, I would miss his eyes, I would miss everything about him. I loved him so much. My mouth curved into a small, sad smile. A single tear fell as I turned to the monster that I was doomed to spend the rest of my life with. He stood very still, waiting. I bit back my sobs and opened my mouth.

_Pitiful creature of darkness_

_What kind of life have you known?_

_God give me courage to show you_

_You are not alone_

I slipped his ring on my finger and, with a heavy heart, reached up to kiss him. Despite the fact that my body, my mind, my heart, everything was screaming at me to pull away I resisted. Instead I continued kissed him with a passion I don't think I had even had the chance to show Raoul. I heard as Angel of Music reached a dramatic crescendo around me.

'No…Raoul….,' I thought. I tried to recall the soft melody of our song. I managed to hear a few notes in the distance. It was enough to pull me out of my nightmare. I pulled away, searching for some, any, sign of emotion. Finding none I did the only thing I could think of. With Raoul's breathing still coming in shallow gasps and the sounds of the mob getting closer I kissed him again. I felt tears on my cheek. I was surprised to find that the tears were not mine, but his. I gave an inward sigh of relief as I heard Raoul breath a little more easily when the Phantom's hand lowered, relinquishing his hold on the rope slightly. What does he want? The mob was closer now. Please let him stay calm. What does he want? He was still crying. Completely at a loss I leaned in slightly to kiss him again but he turned his head away slightly.

"Take her. Forget me. Forget all of this." He pushed me away towards Raoul. Was he really doing this? After all of that? He was going to let us go free?

"Leave me alone." This was all of the encouragement I needed. I waded as fast as my dress would allow through the murky waters towards my love.

"Go now. Don't let them find you." I quickly pulled the noose from over his head. His first breath came in a grateful gasp. My fingers lingered for a second on his neck. I pang of sympathy mixed with guilt hit me as I saw the abrasions that the noose had caused. I wanted nothing more then to pull him close but I could not be sure whether or not the Phantom would change his mind. If he did it would certainly be better if Raoul was untied.

_Take the boat_

_Swear to me never to tell_

_The secrets you know_

_Of the angel in hell_

I untied the last knot and he slipped from underneath the final rope the tied him down. We fell into each other's warm, loving embrace. He buried his head in the crook of my neck.

"I love you too," he whispered. A smile crept onto my face.

_Go now!_

_Go now!_

_And leave me!_

The Phantom's harsh voice pulled me out of my reverie. Raoul stood up a little straighter, lifting his head off my shoulder, but he kept his arm firmly wrapped around my waist. I kept my arms around his neck and glanced up at the retreating form of the Phantom. My stomach twisted. What? I couldn't be feeling anything for _him_. Raoul gently pulled me towards the boat. He led me through the water as I wrestled with my emotions. What was I feeling? I couldn't quite name the emotion that was forcing my stomach to tie itself into knots. Raoul stepped into the boat and reached up to help me down.

"Wait," I whispered, "It can't end like this." He gave me a confused look. My eyes pleaded with him to understand. He gave the smallest of nods to show his assent. I turned slowly but as I turned towards the Phantom memories of the kiss cam flooding back to me. My lips tingled unpleasantly at the thought. Doing the only thing I could think of to remedy the situation, I quickly spun around and leaned down to kiss my fiancé. At first his lips were stiff against mine as I had taken him by surprise, but after a split second he softened to me. I felt his big hands lock securely underneath my arms to lower me to his level. Once we were closer I wrapped my arms around his neck and let my tongue dart out. It dragged lazily across his lower lip requesting access to his mouth. Access which he readily supplied. He pulled me flush against his body as our tongues danced around each other. I didn't want to end it. It was too perfect, but my body was screaming at me to breathe. We pulled away simultaneously, both sucking in oxygen greedily. I kept my eyes closed hoping, praying, that when I opened them we wouldn't be down here. We would be back up on the roof. We would be singing our song. All thoughts of the Phantom of the Opera would be far, far away. I hoped we would be anywhere but _here_. His fingers gently traced the delicate features of my face. I reluctantly opened my eyes and met the gaze of his soft blue ones.

"I'll be right back," I breathed, "I promise." He nodded and helped me out of the boat. I could feel his tension even after he let go of me. I wanted nothing more then to run back to him, but I was right. Things could not end like this.

_Masquerade_

_Paper faces on parade_

His voice was not the commanding one I was used to hearing. Instead, it was weak, small, and even pitiful. Was that what I felt for him? Pity?

_Hide your face_

_So the world will never find you_

My stomach jerked. Yes, there was pity but there was something more than just that. I looked into the eyes of my old teacher, former angel, recent devil, and…...what was he now? I realized it then. He had only ever been two things to me. He had at one time been my teacher, but he had only obtained that status by posing as my promised Angel of Music. I knew better now. I knew that he was not an angel, he was not my father. More recently he was seduction itself. To me, he seemed a bodiless voice that professed false messages of undying love and devotion. I believed him then, but not now. For now, he cannot hide behind his mask. Now I see what he truly is. He is exactly what I called before in song, a pitiful creature of darkness. I knew that I loved him. Perhaps I always would, but I did not love him the way I loved Raoul. No. Not at all the way that I loved my Raoul. I would always think of him as my teacher. He would always be the one who gave my voice its wings, but it was Raoul who set it free. It was Raoul who set me free.

_Christine, I love you_

I walked towards him with nothing but pity in my heart. I slipped his ring off my finger. At one time it symbolized the love I shared with Raoul. Now it was simply a memento of the waking nightmare. Besides in giving it to him I hoped that he would understand that I couldn't love that way that he wanted me to. I hoped that he would understand that despite that I did, in some small way, love him. I closed his fist around it and backed away. The look on his face was indescrible, so full of love and amazement. I suppose that he didn't believe that I could still care about him after all that he did. To be perfectly honest, I was also surprised to find myself caring. I turned away from him, away from my past, and towards my future, towards Raoul. He was waiting faithfully where I had left him. I smiled slightly as I watched him fidget nervously. He saw me and rushed forward. His hands rested lightly on my shoulders, checking me for injury. I smiled at him fondly and lifted my left hand to his cheek. He covered my hand with his. He gave me a quizzical look and pulled my hand off of his face. He inspected my fingers. At first I couldn't think of what he was looking for, but then it hit me. My heart leapt to my throat. My ring was gone, the ring I had just given up. Though the ring had a totally new meaning now it was still the ring he gave me. My eyes widened with fear, no not fear. I was not afraid of Raoul. He would understand. He had to. He stared at me for a long moment. I was about to open my mouth to offer some explanation but in was unnecessary. He slowly raised my hand to his mouth and, without breaking eye contact, placed a small loving kiss on the spot where the ring should have been. His lips lingered on my skin. My heart that had only moments ago been in my throat now fluttered wildly. I felt my face flush slightly.

"Come, Little Lotte," he said, gently pulling me towards the boat. I followed, more than ready to leave this place. He stepped into the boat and reached up to help me down. Once he was sure I was steady on my feet he turned to grab the oar. He spun back.

"You can sit."

"I'm fine," I smiled. I wrapped my arms around his shoulder. I held him as close as I could without hindering his rowing. He smiled and focused on moving the odd gondola through the underground caverns of the Opera Populiere.

_Say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime_

I sung the words without thinking. They were amplified by the echoing of the cavern walls. I waited for Raoul to respond. He didn't disappoint me.

_Say the word_

_And I will follow you_

While he was singing I glanced back at the Phantom. He was standing alone watching us move away from him. I couldn't make out the features of his face but the sight of him, even from afar, sent chills down my spine. I pulled Raoul closer. The last note left my lover's lips. It was my turn.

_Share each day with me_

_Each night_

_Each morning_

As I sang any doubts that might have lingered vanished. I knew I had made the right choice. I had found peace, freedom, and love. I only hoped that the Phantom could find the same peace in his lifetime.

_Say you love me_

Raoul's response was desperate. He needed badly to hear those words again.

_You know I do_

I hoped that it was enough to assuage all of his fears. We opened our mouths to finish in unison.

_Love me…that's all…_

Our harmony was cut short as another voice came booming through the caverns just as we were turning the corner. It was his voice. Once again it was loud and strong, but I no longer heard the voice of an angel. Just the voice of a man.

_It's over now _

_The music of the night!_

I felt Raoul's shoulder tense beneath my hand. I gently massaged it in attempts to calm him down. The sound of breaking glass came drifted to our ears. The smallest of smiles found its way to my lips. Somehow I knew. I just _knew_. He had found his peace.

"It's all right, my love," I assured Raoul and myself, "We're all going to be okay."


	2. Escaping

Raoul's POV

All notes of the Phantom had faded into the distance long ago. I was quite glad with this. I had heard more than enough of him and his music. Christine had assured me that we would not hear from him again. I didn't share her faith in the nobility of this monster. I remained tense, glancing around the underground chambers as if expecting him to descend upon us any moment and snatch Christine away from me again.

'No," I thought firmly, 'I won't let him.' Who was I to say that? I had almost failed her once. Who was to say I wouldn't again? My whole body tensed up at that thought. I set my face in a grim line and pushed the boat a little faster. I wanted nothing more than to free us from this hell. The smell of smoke was stronger now. We were getting close. I felt Christine's small hand gently massage my shoulder. The tension immediately disappeared as if someone had cut its legs out right out from under it. My rowing stopped and turned to her. She was staring at me with nothing but worry and love in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," I whispered, hanging my head low with shame.

"For what?" she questioned incredulously. For what? Certainly she knew.

"I failed you," I said a little more loudly, meeting her soft brown eyes, "I forced you to decide to……decide to…." I took a deep breath and opened my mouth to try again. But before I could utter a word she place a loving finger onto my lips, effectively silencing me.

"You did not fail me."

"But if I was only faster or stronger I could have…."

"No," she insisted gently, "You did not fail me. Raoul, you saved me." I looked at her disbelievingly. How had I saved her? If anything it was the other way around.

Seeing my confusion, she continued. "You saved me from him. You freed me from the chains that he bound me with. You, Raoul, and only you freed my voice. I realized tonight that my entire life has been a waking nightmare. I thought it was a dream, but I was just blind to the pitch black that surrounded me. He kept a veil over my face, distorting my view on the outside world; on what was really darkness and what was really light. But tonight that veil was lifted and I see things for what they really are. The only fact that remained the same was my love for you."

"But if this veil distorts truth then why could you love me with it on. Would I not be perceived as an enemy?" I wasn't sure what she was talking about. This life that she shared with the Phantom would confuse me until the end of my days.

She smiled at me, "You taught me to look around the veil. To understand the truth of the ignorant state that man kept me under. Only then could I completely lift it." I looked down at her. If I had not already loved her with every fiber of my being I would have falling in love with her again and again at that very moment. She was no longer an innocent little girl. It seemed as if I had watched before my very eyes grow into a fine young woman. She placed a gentle hand on my cheek, gently moving her thumb in small circles.

_Raoul, I love you_

I smiled at her. I knew that for the rest of my life it would be difficult to find a man on this earth happier than I. I leaned down and placed a small kiss on her lips. I did not rush to gain access to her mouth or to increase the amount of passion. Why should I? We had the rest of our lives. I finally did pull away continued to move the boat towards the surface and daylight.

What we found on the surface was certainly not the fairytale image. The air was thick with smoke but we saw no flames. One attempt to breathe and I was left in a coughing fit. Christine faired no better than I in the battle for oxygen. I glanced around desperately for something, anything that would help. We had not come this far to be beaten by something a trivial as a little smoke. Through my coughing and choking I noticed an abandoned rack of costumes. I fought my way through the fumes towards it. Unceremoniously, I ripped two strips of cloth from the nearest dress. Once I had one securely fastened around my mouth and nose I hurried back to Christine. She was on the ground choking and gasping for air. I wrapped it swiftly around her face and tied a knot behind her head to secure it. After a second or two she managed to catch enough of her breath for us to proceed.

"Don't be frightened, Little Lotte," I assured her as I took her hand firmly in mine and led through the labyrinth that was the backstage area of the Opera Populaire. By chance or luck we happened upon a side door. I reached for the handle and attempted to open the door. It didn't budge. I futilely tried again but still the door didn't move. Instead it remained shut as if mocking me. On the other side of this door was fresh air and freedom. Christine was looking at me desperately. The smoke was affecting her far more than it was affecting me. With renewed determination I slammed by body again and again against the stubborn door. Finally it flew open tossing me head over heals onto the snow beneath. Christine gave a small gasp of surprise and leaped out after me. She kneeled into the snow next to me. Her delicate fingers pulled the make-shift mask off my face. I remained motionless on the ground. She cupped my face in her hands.

"Raoul," she called frantically, "Raoul!" My resolve cracked and a grin broke out over my face. That grin turned into chuckles, and those chuckles turned into roaring laughter. We were free! WE WERE FREE! I felt like screaming it out to the world but instead I just allowed myself to laugh. Christine smacked my shoulder lightly.

"Don't do that," she whispered, leaning back from where she had been perched above me.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. My laughter had died down immediately once I realized that I had hurt her. "It was not my intent to hurt you. I would never take pleasure from your pain, Christine," I said sincerely as I rose to my feet. I offered a hand to help her up. She smiled slightly at me and took it. I pulled her up, but before she was even steady on her feet she was overcome with a coughing fit and collapsed into my chest. After a moment it passed but she continued to remain in my arms, relying on me to keep her up. Before she could stand up properly another coughing fit overcame her. Once that passed she attempted to pull away from me.

"I'm fine," she declared. I was hearing none of that. I bent down, locked one arm underneath knees, and swept her into my arms.

"I'm fine, Raoul," she whispered, but despite her protests I could feel her sinking into my arms.

"Oh I know that, Little Lotte," I smiled as I worked my way out of the back alley the door had led us to, "I just relish the feeling of you in my arms. If you would please indulge me in this it would be much appreciated."

"As you wish, monsieur," she sighed with mock formality. God how much I loved this woman. She was perfect in every way. Right then she had her eyes closed as she relaxed after the nights events. What I would always thank God for was that she chose my arms to be the ones that held her.

The sounds of many frightened and frantic people reached our ears as we approached the ended of the alley. I stepped out onto the stone street outside of the Opera Populaire. It was complete chaos. Men were running about everywhere, some were attempting to extinguish the fire, others were comforted the many weeping women of the Opera House. It didn't appear as if the flames had spread much. Maybe it had just been contained to the stage. Maybe that was just wishful thinking. I had no idea. Madame Giry. I need to find her. She can help us. I turned to the person I saw. This happened to be a small boy. He was staring in awe at the madness that ensued around him.

"Excuse me," I said gently to get his attention. He turned to me then promptly began to stare in awe at Christine. What was he looking at? Was I jealous? No, this boy was no more that ten years old. Nothing to be jealous of.

"What's your name?"

"Jean," he said, finally taking his eyes off of Christine.

"Jean," I repeated, "Have you seen a woman by the name of Madame Giry. She might have had her daughter with her. A girl named Meg. She would be about as big as the woman in my arms."

"No, monsieur," he said, "But, monsieur, why are you carrying that girl?"

"Because she couldn't walk," I answered automatically, already looking for someone else to ask. Preferably someone who was old enough to spell Madame Giry.

"Why?"

"Because she's sick." Maybe that man over there. No, no he's just a begger. I doubt he'd know.

"Why?"

"She inhaled some smoke." Maybe him over there. Yes I think I recognize him from the Opera. Yes, he's a good choice.

"Why?"

"Because we were inside the Opera House when it was on fire." I was growing impatient now. This kid really needed to back off. I was glad that Christine had drifted off to sleep by then. Though I had no idea how she had remained so in the midst of all this craziness.

"Well why were you in there when it was on fire?" he asked as if it was the stupidest thing on earth. I was saved a snappish retort when I heard a female's voice calling me.

"Vicomte de Changy?" I spun around to see Meg pushing her way through the crowd. I heaved a great sighed of relief. "My mother sent me to look for you, monsieur. She found a small inn just down the road. The inn keeper is already putting up a few of the others from the Opera up for the night for free."

"Thank you, Meg." I was truly grateful. Christine needed a place to sleep and it didn't look as if we would find any rides out of the city to the de Changy estate tonight.

"Is she all right?" Meg said, gesturing towards Christine. Her face was full of worry for her life time friend.

"She inhaled too much smoke. Some rest, a little water, and she will be just fine." I was not only assuring Meg but myself. Christine would be all right. She had to be. Meg nodded but did not look completely convinced.

"Follow me, monsieur." She started to spin around.

"Meg," I called her back. She turned to face me. "There is no need for that formality. You may call me simply Raoul."

She nodded. "Follow me," she hesitated for a split second, "Raoul." She spun around quickly before I could read any emotion on her face and started to make her way back through the crowd. I glanced down at Christine before following. Somehow I knew that she would like that. She would like me to make her friends my own. It was difficult to follow Meg through the crowd. Her slim, limber frame allowed her to mover fairly quickly in and out of people. With a sound asleep Christine in my arms and my slightly larger build I lost sight of her three or four times. It was only her doubling back that allowed us to successfully make our way out of the mob.

We finally reached a small dead end street. Meg followed it a little ways before turning into an inn called the Bird and Baby.

"This is it," she said unnecessarily. It was cozy, warm place. I immediately felt a little safer in the warmth of the fire.

"Ahh more people." The innkeeper was an old man with a very happy attitude. He reminded me a little bit of Santa Clause in his disposition.

"Thank you Monsieur……" I trailed off.

"Paul," he supplied, "Paul will do, monsieur. Now what is wrong with this one?" he asked, gesturing to Christine's sleeping form. How was she still asleep?

"Nothing a hot bath and some sleep won't remedy," I responded.

"Of course. Marguerite!" he called. I plump woman appeared at the bottom of the stairs.

"Yes?" She seemed as jolly and friendly as her husband.

"Would you please take this woman and give her a hot bath?"

"Yes. Yes of course," she agreed, walking over towards myself and Christine, "Poor dear. It looks like she has been to hell and back." How close to the truth. "Monsieur?" she questioned.

"Yes?"

"You're going to have to let her go," she said tentatively. My grip on Christine tightened. I would not lose her again, not even to this seemingly sweet woman.

"She will be fine, Monsieur Vicomte," Madame Giry had appeared at the bottom of the stairs, "I will watch over her." I had no idea where she had come from. Perhaps her days with the Phantom had taught her a thing or two about being invisible. None of that mattered though because right now she was probably the only person besides Meg whom I would entrust Christine to. I nodded slightly to show my assent. I then turned my attention to the fast asleep woman in my arms.

"Christine," I whispered softly, "Christine, love, you must wake up now." She shifted in my arms slightly.

"Raoul," she breathed in her semi-conscious state. I grinned.

"Come now, Little Lotte," I whispered in a second attempt. This time her eyes fluttered open.

"Raoul?" A confused look graced her beautiful face. "Where are we?"

"We're at an inn. Meg and Madame Giry are here too," I comforted her. She looked at Meg, then Madame Giry, and finally back to me. "Don't worry. You're perfectly safe, Christine. I'm here," I assured her. I felt her relax. "Madame Giry is going to take you to have a hot bath now. All right?" She nodded and I lowered her to her feet. I kept my hands on her waste until I was sure she was steady.

"Will I see you again?" she questioned.

"If you wish it," I responded. She smiled and reached up to kiss me. I was all too aware of the audience we had and (much to my dismay) kept the kiss simple and discreet. I then handed her over to Madame Giry, Meg, and Marguerite who led her up the stairs and out of sight. I stared at the staircase for a long time just thinking of her and contemplating whether or not it would be frowned upon if I darted up the stairs after them.

"You love her, Vicomte?"

"What?"

"I said," Paul repeated, "Do you love her?"

"More than you know," I responded staring him in the eye.

"I thought so," Paul said. He smiled to himself. "You don't need to fear for her. She's in good hands." Despite myself I found myself trusting this man's word. "Come, monsieur, it looks as if you need a hot bath as well."

A bath had never felt so good. Paul had shown back to my room and informed me that Christine's was the one next to mine. After waiting until Paul was out of sight I moved in the direction of Christine's room. Just as I reached the door Madame Giry and Meg stepped out.

"May I see her?" I questioned.

"She's sleeping, monsieur," Madame Giry replied.

"I promised her."

"She needs rest," Madame Giry insisted, "You need rest yourself. You may see her in the morning." It was times like this when I truly appreciated the ballet (well, now former) mistress' discipline. I nodded my head in concession. She was right. I did not wish to risk waking Christine. She needed sleep. Madame Giry, upon seeing my admission of defeat, bid Meg and I good night before leaving to the privacy of her own room.

Meg started to follow her mother but hesitated, "Get some sleep, Raoul. She's fine." She smiled at me and headed off in the direction of her mother. I retreated into my room. I pulled my shirt off and crawled into bed.

_No more talk of darkness_

_Forget these wide-eyed fears_

_I'm here_

_No one will harm you_

_My words will warm and calm you_

_Let me be your freedom_

_Let daylight dry your tears_

_I'm here_

_No one will find you_

_To guard you and to guide you_

I don't know why I sung these words. Perhaps it was my desire to be with Christine perhaps I couldn't bear the silence. Either way I was certainly surprised when I heard Christine's voice drifting back to me from the other side of the wall.

_Say you'll love me_

_Every waking moment_

_Turn my head with talk of summertime_

_Say you need me with you_

_Now and always_

_Promise me that all you say is true_

_That's all I ask of you_

I listened, enchanted, at the sound of her beautiful voice. I was so entranced I almost forgot the next part of the song. But I managed to pull myself together in time to sing the next lyric.

_Let me be your shelter_

_Let me be your light_

_I'm here_

_No one will find you_

_Your fears are far behind you_

She swiftly answered me.

_All I want is freedom_

_A world with no more night_

_And you always beside me_

_To hold me and to hide me_

I my heart leapt, as it always did, at those words. I vowed for the thousandth time to make sure I did not disappoint her.

_Then say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime_

_Let me lead you from your solitude_

_Say you need me with you_

_Here, beside you_

_Anywhere you go_

_Let me go too_

_Christine_

_That's all I ask of you_

I thought that my heart would burst at that point with all of the love I was feeling. I didn't know that I could feel this way. Until I met Christine.

_Say you'll share with me_

_One love, one lifetime_

_Say the word and I will follow you_

Our voices rose in harmony.

_Share each day with me_

_Each night_

_Each morning_

Christine's voice was laced with exhaustion now. I wished that I could take her into my arms then but the wall prevented this from happening. Instead I raised my hand to the wall hoping to obtain some sort of closeness. What I didn't know was that my gesture was mirrored by Christine in her room.

_Say you love me_

She never has to worry about me not loving her. That is something that I could not help.

_You know I do_

I always will.

_Love me…_

_That's all I ask of you_

The last note faded away and was met with silence, but this silence was a comfortable one. I heard a muffled yawn from the other side of the door. I gave a small smile. Only Christine would pretend to be awake to spend time with a man when they had a wall separating them.

"Good night, Little Lotte," I said, not raising my voice any louder then was necessary for her to hear in the other room.

"Good night, Raoul." Her angelic voice drifted back to me. That night I dreamed of nothing but us and our future together.

A/N

I think that I will continue to switch off POV but other then thatI have no idea where this is going but I think that I could do something with this. I'm not sure. Thanks to all who read and reviewed. Hope you enjoyed.


	3. Home

**Christine's POV**

The soft rays of the early morning sun peeked through the drawn curtains in my room in the….. What was the name of this inn? I remembered escaping the Opera. Oh God, the Opera. Was it all right? If that smoke was any testimony to the intensity of the fire it would be in shambles. I shook all thoughts of my home from my head and continued to run through what I did remember of last night. I remembered Raoul frightening me in that alley. I knew he had not meant to hurt me, but he had terrified me. I had no idea what I would do if anything happened to Raoul. My Raoul. I grinned and pushed myself into a sitting position on the soft bed. I recalled as he had swept me off my feet, insisting upon carrying me. He was very much a gentleman. After that, however, my mind drew a blank. That is until being softly awakened by Raoul in the inn. I did remember singing with him last night. I had wanted nothing more than to leave my room to stay with him, but my sense of propriety kept me stuck fast to my bed. I touched my bare feet to the cold wood floor and moved to stand up. Before I could get to my feet the door opened.

"I must see her," said a very exasperated Raoul. I allowed a broad grin to spread across my face.

"Monsieur," replied the equally exasperated inn-keepers wife, "I have told you. I shall check to see if she is decent and then you may see her." I attempted to peer around her to get a glimpse of my love but her considerably wide girth took up nearly the entire door frame. She also seemed to be swaying slightly as if she was playing a cat and mouse type game with Raoul, trying to keep him from entering. Despite this I could picture Raoul opening his mouth in protest, but before I could hear whatever argument he would bring forth next the door was swiftly shut. She let out a frustrated sigh and turned to me.

"He is quite a handful. Stubborn too," she smiled at me, "How are you feeling dear?" She was very sweet, very maternal. Or, at least, she is what I would _guess_ a mother would be like. I never knew mine. Madame Giry was the closest thing I had ever known to a mother, but she had had to be a teacher as well.

"Much better, thank you," I replied politely, "I'm sorry. I'm afraid I don't remember your name."

"Marguerite," she replied, "I'm sorry that I didn't have anything that would fit you better. You arrived at such short notice, and well, you are such a slight, little thing my clothes don't seem to fit you very well." She gave me a good humored smile which I returned. It was certainly true. The simple night dress I wore was far too loose on me. In fact, I was afraid that if I stood up it would fall right off. But it was clean, and infinitely better than the Phantom's wedding dress.

"It's fine," I assured her, "Thank you, for all of your hospitality. It is very generous of you."

"Oh, don't mention it, child," she brushed off the show of gratitude nonchalantly, "Couldn't very well turn out a man like the one you have with a sick, pretty girl in his arms could we?" I blushed at her comment. I had not intended to seem so helpless upon our arrival. I also felt guilty at having Raoul carry me all of that way. I made a mental note to apologize to him once I was able to see him.

"Before I forget," she made a sudden move as if just remembering something, "I managed to dig this up last night. Now I don't think it will fight you well, but it will certainly be better than anything of mine." As she said this she had been moving towards a chair in the corner of the room. My eyes followed her trip across the room and noticed, for the first time, a dress draped across the chair. She held it up for me to see. It was nothing special, just a plain dress.

"It belonged to my daughter," she said softly. Her fingers moved over the fabric, smoothing out the wrinkles with loving care. "She died young. Consumption. Awful disease. She wasn't much older than you when it happened." I looked at the woman with new pity. I knew what it was like to lose someone you loved.

"I'm sorry, but I do understand," I offered, "Nine years ago I lost my father. I was only seven when Madame Giry brought me to live in the Opera House." I hardly ever spoke of my father and had no idea why I found myself trusting this woman. Perhaps it was because she had shown such kindness last night. I honestly did not know. Marguerite had been watching me intently, but when I ended my story he look turned from one of pity to surprise.

"Nine years ago? How old are you now, child?"

"Sixteen," I whispered.

"Sixteen," she sounded surprised, "And you already have that man chasing after you? That brash, young gentleman insisting upon bursting in here without knowing whether or not you were awake or decent?" She was laughing to herself now. I blushed and turned my head away in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry," she apologized though she continued to chuckle underneath her breath, "I did not mean to make you feel uncomfortable. He's a fine man."

"He is," I breathed in agreement. I fiddled with the hem of the dress I wore, refusing for the moment to meet her eyes. When I did look up she was giving me a knowing smile.

"Come, child, let's get you dressed. I'm surprised that monsieur Vicomte has not tried to bash down the door by now." I grinned at her words. I did want nothing more than to see him.

"Wait," I had just remembered, "Meg and Madame Giry. Are they here still?"

"The blonde girl…." she trailed off.

"Meg," I supplied.

"Right, Meg," she continued, "I believe she's downstairs restraining your male friend." I blushed again as she led me over to the changing screen. "And Madame Giry," she checked with me to see if the name was right, I nodded, "left this morning. I think she went to go see what was left of the Opera." I nodded. I fought to keep my mind off the ruined Opera House. I would not despair over this.

"It's a shame," she continued as she helped me out of the night dress I wore, "What happened to the Opera, I mean. We didn't go often, but we did see Hannibal. Splendid show, especially the lead soprano. She was marvelous. The voice of an angel that one had. Oh what was her name?" she puzzled for a moment, "Christine Daae. That was it." I stifled my laughter. Did she honestly not know who I was? "Speaking of the Opera. What part did you have in it? I spoke with your friends this morning. Were you in the ballet with them?"

"For a time," I responded. I was really in no mood to endure any questions about my time spent at the Opera.

"Oh," she nodded, "There you go," she finished fastening the last tie, "You look beautiful." I smiled at the compliment. "You'd best go see that man of yours. Before he _does_ break down this door." I nodded my thanks and moved eagerly towards the door. She followed me out the door and into the hallway.

"Just down those stairs to your left there," she pointed me in the right direction.

"Thank you, Marguerite," I said for the third or fourth time. I was truly grateful to her.

"Oh, it was nothing," we moved off in different directions, "Wait, before I forget. I didn't catch your name." I bit my lip. It was refreshing to talk with someone who had no idea about who I was or anything about my career at the Opera Populaire. But still, I couldn't lie to her.

"Christine Daae," I replied. I swiftly turned and left a bewildered woman at the top of the stairs.

"It was….it was nice to have met you Miss. Daae," came the faint voice of Marguerite bouncing of the walls of the stairwell.

The stairs led directly to the main room that served as something of a pub and restaurant. It was filled with the smells of food and the roaring laughter of the inn-keeper. He, Meg, and Raoul were all seated around a table in the center of the room. My heart leapt to my throat as I caught sight of Raoul. It was all I could do to prevent myself from running across the room and throwing myself into his arms. He did not see my entrance as his back was to the staircase but the inn-keeper, who was facing me, did.

"Well, look who decided to get up," he said once his laughter had faded. Both Raoul's and Meg's head snapped so quickly in my direction I was surprised I didn't hear them crack.

"Christine," Raoul exclaimed leaping to his feet. He stood so fast the chair tumbled to floor. He paid it no heed and strode swiftly across the room to me. I moved towards him as well. When we met in the middle he enveloped in a warm hug. He pulled me as close as he could, holding me tightly. I sighed contentedly. This was where I belonged. I rested my head on his chest and inhaled the scent that was undeniably Raoul. I couldn't quite place what it was that made up his scent, but I knew how it made me feel. It made me feel loved; it made me feel safe, like no one in the world could harm me. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head. His face lingered there for a long moment. I wondered if he was doing the same thing I was. I wondered if something as simple as my scent could make him feel the way that I felt just then. He lifted his face and pulled away just enough to put a gentle kiss on my lips. I gave the softest moans of disappointment when he pulled away. He gave me a look of amusement at this.

"Are you feeling better?" he questioned, his eyes full of worry and love. He cupped my face with his hands.

"Much better," I replied, reaching my hand up to cover his, "I'm sorry you had to carry me so far last night. You should have woken me sooner."

He placed a gentle finger to my lips. "I could not very well wake a sleeping angel. Now could I? Besides it was not difficult to carry you, Little Lotte," he assured me. How I loved this man, more than anything.

"Christine?" said Meg timidly. I could tell she was iffy with interrupting the quiet moment I was sharing with Raoul.

"Meg!" I replied enthusiastically even though I was anything but enthusiastic at leaving the warmth of Raoul's arms. I gave Raoul one final smile before covering the distance that separated me and my friend. I hugged her tightly. I was truly grateful that she had escaped the Opera unscathed. She was the closest thing I had to a sister. She and Madame Giry had been so close to me for so long that I now considered them family.

"I'm so glad you're okay, Christine," she said, "We didn't know what had happened to you. What _did_ happen?" I bit my lip nervously. I looked back to Raoul for support. I loved Meg, and was sure that I would tell her everything, but not now. It was all too soon.

Seeing my distraught expression Raoul came to my side, wrapping his arms firmly around my waste. I was grateful just for having him there. I leaned into him, trusting him to keep me on my feet. Raoul was not the only one who had seen my distress. Meg had known me for too long to not know when I didn't want to talk about something. She quickly changed tracks.

"That's not important now," she said hurriedly. What followed that was one of the most uncomfortable silences I had ever experienced. I remained in Raoul's arms as he traced small circles with his thumb on my waist, Meg was fiddling with the fabric of her dress that looked to be borrowed from Marguerite as well, and the inn-keeper's eyes darted from one person to another as if he was decided whether or not he could break the silence.

"Well," he said hesitantly, "How about some breakfast?"

"That sounds wonderful," I said quickly, anything to break the silence. He quickly stood up and bustled about preparing food for us.

"Where is your mother?" I asked Meg as Raoul helped me into a chair.

"She left early this morning," she replied, sitting in the chair opposite me, "She went to go see how badly the Opera was damaged." Raoul sat next to me and placed his hand over mine.

"Once we've eaten," I asked, looking back and forth between Meg and Raoul, "Can we go too? I have to see what happened."

"Are you sure?" Raoul questioned worriedly. I could tell he didn't want to take me back there. Not after all that had happened.

"Please," I begged.

"I think it's a good idea," Meg chimed in, "I need to see it for myself too." Raoul looked back and forth between the two of us. He knew he was fighting a losing battle. He gave a nod of assent. I smiled and reached up to peck his cheek.

"Thank you," I breathed against his skin. I could feel him shudder as I pulled away. I grinned wickedly to myself. I won't lie. I enjoyed having that effect on him. I wasn't as innocent as I seemed. Paul brought forth steaming platters of food. My stomach grumbled. I didn't realize how hungry I was. I greedily dug into a plate of eggs, simultaneously reaching for a slice of bread.

"Slow down, mademoiselle," the inn-keeper said, "It won't run away on you." I smiled sheepishly and forced myself to slow the speed at which I was moving my fork. Raoul grinned at me and lifted his hand from where it was perched atop my own and moved to the back of my neck. He buried it in my hair and began to gently massage the back of my neck. I felt goose bumps rise on my arms and I started to tremble. I tried desperately to hide the effect he was having on me from the others. Damn him. I loved him, I loved this feeling, but why did he have to pick now to decide to bring it out in me. I loved being able to bring those things out in him, I would have to accept that he could do the same with me.

After a delicious breakfast prepared by Paul (as I learned his name was) Meg, Raoul, and myself set off for the Opera. Raoul held my hand tightly as we made our way out onto the main road that would take us to the Opera House. My first glimpse of the Opera Populaire was incredibly deceiving. It outwardly appeared in decent shape. Only once I entered the place I had called home for nine years did I realize how much it had been affected by the fire. The once grand foyer was covered in soot, but it didn't appear that the flames had reached this area. Hope was rekindled as we continued to make our way through the Opera House.

"We're ruined, Andre," exclaimed Firmin, "Ruined!" We walked in to see both Andre and Firmin standing in the midst of the rubble that surrounded the stage.

"Gentleman," Raoul said politely, calling their attention to our presence.

"Monsieur Vicomte!" Andre called, "And Miss. Daae! We are so relieved that you are safe." I bit back a snide remark. They were not glad we were unharmed. They were just glad that Raoul was intact for his money, and that my voice was undamaged. One can notice that they paid no heed to Meg's presence.

"I'm rather glad that you showed up, Vicomte," Firmin said quickly, "I think that now is an excellent time to discuss your patronage to the Opera Populaire." I scoffed inwardly. Was I right or was I right? I could not be too bothered though. They were harmless enough. I tuned out the conversation and turned my attention to they ruined Opera House. The stage was no more and most of the once grand seats were gone. The Phantom's infamous box five was no longer standing, but lying on the ground, a burnt shell of what it at one time was. I could believe it. This was the only home I had known for so long. I recalled all of the performances that I had been a part of, whether I had been in the chorus or singing lead soprano. I recalled that first night when I had sang in Hannibal. I smiled at the thought of that night. How invigorating it had been. That had also been the night that Raoul had come back to me. I remembered being disappointed that he had not recognized me. Meg had been right; he had just not seen me. The smile faded from my face as I recalled the Phantom taking me down to his lair. His dark serenading. I longed to have Raoul's arms back around me, to fight off the darkness that threatened to engulf me just then. I turned frantically to him them. His eyes met mine while he was in the middle of discussing finances with Andre and Firmin. He must have seen the desperation in my eyes because he ended the conversation swiftly.

"Gentleman," he said, interrupting Firmin, "We shall have to continue this conversation at a later date. I promise you I will discuss this matter with my fiancé and will get back to as soon as possible." He brushed off their attempts to stop him and made his way over to me. He wrapped his arms around me and I buried my face in his chest.

"What's wrong, love?"

"I just needed you," I answered, "That's all." I hoped he understood. I didn't feel like voicing my feelings and fears just then.

"Of course, Little Lotte," he whispered into my hair. My lips curved into a smile at the use of me nickname.

"I'm sorry about all of this," his whispered after a long moment. I glanced up at him, confused. "I know that you've already lost one home. You didn't deserve to lose another," he finished. I pulled away from him slightly. It was true. At one point this had been my home, but all things must pass with time. I felt his arms wrapped securely around me. I had a new home. As long as he was with me I was home.

"I have a home," I whispered.

_Anywhere you go let me go too_

I softly repeated the lyrics. He beamed down at me.

"Come, Little Lotte," he said gently, "Let's go home."

**A/N**

**Another chapter. What do you guys think? I hope you enjoyed because you probably own't get another one for a while for reasons stated in my profile. Thank you again for allof your reviews. They inspire me more then you know. Well you probably do.I'm done now. Until next time!**


	4. Phantom Returns

**Madame Giry's POV**

Ruined. So much of it was destroyed by the fire. The entire stage was consumed by flames, all of the seats were burnt as well. Luckily, the fire had, by some miracle, been contained. But, even though the flames didn't reach back stage, most of the props and costumes had been destroyed by the smoke. I shook all thoughts of the hopelessness of the situation from my head. It didn't me any good to allow my thoughts to linger on what couldn't be changed.

I continued to sort through clothes. Some were mine, others belonged to Meg, and others to Christine.

'Christine…' I thought as I found a dress that I recognized to be hers. She was lucky, very lucky. She escaped from this horrid ordeal unscathed (well, unscathed for the most part). He had let her go with le Vicomte. She and le Vicomte's love for each other was palpable and infectious to anyone who was lucky enough to be around them. Even Erik had to see that. Why would have he let them go otherwise? As I glanced around I couldn't help but feel guilty. I had brought Erik here. It was I who didn't do anything. I could have stopped him. I could have done something, but instead I stood by and watched as he destroyed the Opera House and ate away at Christine's heart and sanity, and I couldn't help but think, as I saw the wreckage around me, that I had brought this dark fate upon myself.

"What have I done?" I whispered into the silence, sinking down onto my knees. Suddenly, I felt older, much, much older. I was weighed down with guilt and despair. With the Opera Populaire destroyed how was I to support Meg? Where could _I_ find a job? I had few talents and the one that I did have, well, jobs in the ballet were few and far between. I wasn't sure how much longer we could stay at the Bird and Baby. I didn't doubt whether or not Christine and le Vicomte would take us in; in fact, they had already extended an offer, but I didn't want to be a burden to them. No, I would just have to find a job elsewhere, who knows, maybe Andre and Firmin would rebuild the Opera Populaire and obtaining a new job would be unnecessary.

My head snapped up at a soft whooshing sound that came from somewhere off to my left. My breath caught in my throat, could it be? Oh God, please no. He stepped from the shadows. It was unmistakably Erik, for he wore no mask. I couldn't completely hide my surprise at this fact. It was the first time I had seen him without his mask since the night I brought him here. I immediately rose, resuming my commanding air once more.

"Erik," I acknowledged his with a curt nod of my head. I busied myself sorting clothing again. He stood there, unmoving, watching me.

"Madame….," he trailed off. I pretended as if he had said nothing, ignoring his presence altogether. He opened his mouth in another attempt to break the silence.

"Don't," I snapped, not even looking up from my work, "There is nothing you can say." I finally looked at him. He looked genuinely sorry, but he had proved to be a master of deception; I no longer trusted him.

"Why did you come back?" I questioned, my tone softening slightly. I didn't trust him, but I did still pity him.

"This is the only home I've ever known," he whispered. His voice was weak and defeated. I twang of sympathy hit me, but I suppressed it. Regret, did not make up for all the terrible things he did.

"This is how you would treat your home?" I questioned fiercely. He opened his mouth in protest but I silenced him. "Do you intend to stay here?"

"Is it safe?" I knew exactly what he meant. If anyone found him he surely be put to death.

"They think you've gone," I replied, "They will not think to look here again." He nodded and turned around to disappear back into the shadows. Why was I helping him? I could go to the police. At the prospect of catching the infamous Phantom of the Opera, they would all come running. Why was I agreeing to keep his secret? He didn't deserve this aide; not after what he did to the Opera House, not after what he did to le Vicomte, and certainly not after what he did to Christine. He was a villain. I tried hard to convince myself of it as I stared at his back.

'Villain, villain, villain," I repeated the mantra over and over again in my head, but it did little to convince me of anything. I could never truly see him as the villain. I loved him too much to do that. Despite the fact that we were very similar in age, I had, essentially, raised him. I cared for him as a son. It was my dilemma. Would I speak ill of a son who hurt a daughter, or would I speak ill of a daughter who hurt a son? For they both came out scarred.

He turned swiftly back to me as if he had suddenly remembered something very important. "Will they rebuild it?"

"Perhaps," I answered. He nodded and, without any further words, disappeared into the shadows. I listened carefully but neither heard no further sounds nor was able to pick up any evidence that he had actually been there at all. There definitely was a very good reason as to why he came to be known as the _Phantom_ of the Opera.

I lingered for only a moment before collecting all of the clothes that could be salvaged into a bag and leaving. I walked briskly out of the Opera House and the short distance to the Bird and Baby.

I stepped relieved into the cozy warmth of the inn. I set my load down onto a nearby table and brushed some snow from my cloak.

"Good evening, Paul," I greeted the jolly inn-keeper. He was serving whiskey to the few customers he had on this blustery evening.

"Evening, Madame," he replied.

"Where is Meg?" I asked.

"Upstairs with Marguerite," he answered, "Would you like me to help you get that up the stairs?" He gestured towards the bag of clothes.

"No, but thank you. I can do it myself," I assured him. He nodded and continued to serve drinks.

"Oh," he said suddenly, "Before I forget,"—he pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket—"this came for you today." He handed it to me. One glance at it told me it was from Christine. I collected my bag, bid good night to Paul, and hurried up the stairs to my room.

Once I was in my room and my bag was placed on the floor I opened the letter. It read:

Dear Madame Giry,

I'm writing to you to renew my appeal for you and Meg to come and live with us here at the De Changy estate. Raoul and I would simply love for you to come. It's so beautiful here. Everything about it and it is removed from hustle and bustle of the city. It has been so long since I lived away from Paris that I forgot how nice it is to live in the country, after recent events I'm quite content to live away from the city for a time. Raoul is going into the city on business with Andre and Firmin tomorrow. I have arranged for him to stop by the Bird and Baby at four o'clock when he has finished. He will pick you and Meg up then. I apologize for using this tactic, Madame Giry, but I felt it necessary. Otherwise you would never come! I greatly look forward to seeing you and Meg. Until tomorrow.

With all my love,

Christine

'That girl!' I thought as I put the letter down. She was a great deal slyer than one would believe upon meeting her. She really had left me with very little choice. I had seen first hand how stubborn le Vicomte could be. If she sent him on the task to retrieve us he would stop at nothing. I sighed and began to change for bed. It really wasn't _that_ bad. Christine was right, after all that had happened some time away from Paris would do us all a world of good. I drifted off to sleep with thoughts of the freedom the country would bring bouncing around in my head. I was relieved to have something other then Erik to occupy my thoughts.

**A/N**

**I am SO sorry this took me so long! I have been unbelievably busy. I might have another one up tomorrow, but I'm not sure. I'm trying to give this more of a plot. When I started this I intended it to be a oneshot and consequently had no ideas about how to continue it. I think I have one now but I don't know how well it's going to go. The minute it sounds bad and cheesy tell me! Please tell me! I love your reviews! So please review! That's all for now! Until I get another chapter out!**

**RiverofTruth **

**Oh yeah, just an FYI, because of a suggestion that LadyImproptu made I'm going to be doing a bit of a 180 on Christine's character. Just so you're aware of it.**


	5. Stay

**Raoul's POV**

The carriage jostled as it traveled along the rocky path that connected my country estate to the city.

'_Our_ country estate,' I silently corrected myself, allowing a small smile to creep onto my lips. We were together now. I had never really liked the house when it was only me. It always seemed too big, too empty, too lonely. But now, with Christine, it seemed perfect. I knew she loved it. She hadn't lived outside of Paris since she was a small child. Since Gustave died. I had always loved the fact that he allowed me to address him by his first name, even though I was only a small boy at the time. I knew that my father had frowned upon it, but that did not sway Gustave. Perhaps that is what caused me to latch onto the Daae family, but even then, as I reflected, I knew that _that_ was far from the truth. The respect I felt for Gustave Daae was not the reason I had spent all of my free time at the Daaes' sea house. No, the real reason came in the form of a little girl. A very pretty little girl with long dark curls and a bold personality. Even when we were children, I had always felt _something_ for her, though I hadn't known just what the emotion was at the time. I remembered the day she left to come and live in Paris. I had mourned the loss of my friend. I shuddered as I remembered the feeling of that loss amplified tenfold when the Phantom had stolen her down into his lair. I would not lose her again. I didn't think I could bear to lose her again.

I resisted the urge to turn the carriage around and return to her side. The only thing that prevented me from doing so was knowing that she wanted nothing more than to have her friends brought to her. I had promised to return with them, and I would. She had warned me that they might protest, but I intended on persuading them otherwise. If it was what my Little Lotte desired.

The city of Paris was its usual busy self. I carefully guided the horses through the crowds towards the office of Andre and Firmin. I handed the horses off to a small stable boy who looked vaguely familiar.

"I'm sorry," I said, "But have we met before?"

"Yes, monsieur," he replied eagerly, "The night of the fire." Ahh yes. I remember him.

"Of course," I responded, recalling the small boy with all of the questions. I felt a small twinge of guilt; I had been quite short with him. "Jean, right?"

He nodded, obviously ecstatic that I had remembered his name. "How is that woman you were carrying?" I smiled warmly at him.

"She is fine," I replied warmly, "Thank you for remembering. Now can you take these horses and see that they're taken care of?"

"Yes, monsieur,"—he beamed up at me proudly, puffing out his chest with importance—"I've been doing this for years."

"Then I leave them in your capable hands," I said, handing him the reins with a smile. He took them with joy and began to make his way to the stable. The sight of such a small boy next to the large horses was a comical one, but it was obvious he knew what he was doing. I didn't doubt that he had been working in this job for years. I was a shame that boys should be forced to start working at such a young age.

'I should like to have children some day.' The thought took me by surprise. Children were something I had not yet considered, but, the more I thought about it, the more I warmed up to the idea. Yes, children were definitely in the cards, and I had no doubt as to whom the mother would be.

"Vicomte?" I snapped my head around. In the door way of the small building stood Andre. "Ahh, monsieur, we have been waiting. Would you please come in?" I nodded and followed him inside, closing the door behind us. The office was cluttered, full of old documents and other odds and ends. There were two desks, each equally cluttered, and a small stove in the center for heating purposes. Poking at the stoves stood Firmin. Upon hearing the door close, he turned to face us.

"Vicomte," he greeted me warmly, "We're so glad you could come."

"It was my pleasure," I replied, looking about for some place to sit. Seeing me, Andre quickly whipped out chair and placed it in front of one of the desks. I took it gratefully. Firmin walked around the desk, sitting down in the chair that obviously went with the desk, and Andre somehow managed to produce yet another chair from underneath the rubble and sat himself down.

"Drink?" Andre asked, motioning towards a decanter of brandy. I nodded, a drink sounded good right now. He stood up and filled three glasses before returning to his seat.

"And how is Miss Daae?" he asked conversationally, passing the glasses around.

"Fine, still a little frightened, but recovering," I replied, downing the liquor. I did not tell them that she was awoken by nightmares most nights, and that her screams of terror reverberated through the large house. I trembled slightly, remembering the sound. It was the worst sound in the world to me, well, that and the sound of her crying. I quickly downed the liquor. I was never much of a drinker, only taking a single glass of wine with my dinners, but the brandy was able to chase away Christine's screams from my head. I hoped she was all right. My estate was a large one; even I didn't like being there alone, and with all that had happened recently…

'No,' I silently reprimanded myself, she was fine. He would not come looking for her. Would he?

"Vicomte? Vicomte?" It was Firmin. Judging by the look on his face, it appeared as if he had been attempting to speak with me for quite awhile. I forced myself to focus on the issue at hand. The sooner I finished here, the sooner I could return home.

"Sorry. What were you saying?" He shot me a slightly annoyed look, but I was the money. They wouldn't risk an insult.

"Would you consider supporting the re-opening of the Opera Populaire?" he repeated. I had not suspected him to be so direct about this request. I had expected it to come up, but not this quickly.

"What about..."

"Gone," Andre interrupted quickly, "The police found no sign of him. He's left."

"Is that so?" I questioned.

"Yes, it is," reassured Firmin, "I know that you have had the most,"—he paused to search for the right word—"pleasant of pasts concerning this "Opera Ghost", but, again, I assure you, he is gone." I carefully considered his words. If this was true, then I saw no reason _not_ to fund them, but if they were mistaken…

"The public wants their opera," Andre chuckled. I could care less about what the public wanted. If the Phantom was still at the Opera House, the public would have to live without their beloved opera for a time. I would not support putting him back into the power the Opera House granted him. I gave a tired sigh.

"The day is growing late, gentleman. I must be returning home, and I still have another errand to attend to in the city. I shall consult my fiancé and respond to you within the week." I stood up. They looked up at me from where they remained seated. They both had slight looks of astonishment plastered on their faces, probably because I was holding off answering them to consult with Christine, a woman. They recovered and both rose simultaneously, almost kicking their chairs to the floor in their haste. I quickly shook each of their hands and made to leave.

"Will you wait a moment, monsieur?" Firmin asked, "We can send for your carriage and you don't have to walk out in that dreadful cold." It was true, the snow had kicked up. I watched the large flakes drift to the ground through the small window.

"That's quite all right," I replied, "All the more reason for speed. I wouldn't like to be snowed into the city." I gave them one parting smile before leaving the warmth of the office.

I was greeted with a piercing cold. All around, people were bending their heads against the cold and plowing forward to reach their destinations. I hurried in the direction of the public stables, hoping that my carriage was ready. I would have to leave the city very soon if I was to be able to make the journey.

"You're back, monsieur." It was the eager little Jean. He had donned a rather patchy looked coat since I had last seen him. His cheeks were rosy with the cold, but he was still all smiles.

"Yes, Jean," I grinned down at him, "I need my carriage now if I'm not to be snowed in." He nodded and bounced off. I laughed silently as I watched him disappear into the stable. I certainly found this small boy's company much more enjoyable then that of Andre and Firmin combined. It was only a wait of a few minutes before Jean came back into view with my carriage in tow.

"There you go, monsieur," he said, holding them while I climbed into the driver's seat.

"Thank you for your troubles, Jean."

"Oh, no trouble at all, monsieur," he replied with a smile. I suddenly remembered Gustave. I remembered how much I had respected him for as simple a thing as allowing me to address him by his first name. As I looked down at Jean I saw, for a brief moment, myself, not Jean, standing there grinning.

"Raoul," I corrected him softly, "Raoul will suffice." He looked up at me, shocked that a noble had asked him to address them so informally. Before he could say anything, I drove out of the stables. Just as I was about to turn the corner I heard someone call from somewhere behind me.

"Goodbye, monsieur Raoul." I laughed. Well, it was a start.

By the time I reached the Bird and Baby, there was already an inch of snow accumulated on the ground. I was really worried now. I hurriedly jumped from the carriage, passing the reins off to a stable hand, instructing him to wait. I pulled the door open. The sharp contrast of the cold to the warmth was a little shocking at first. I paused in the doorframe while I adjusted to the temperature and the light. Once I was able to see, I looked around for a familiar face. Much to my surprise, I spotted Meg, Madame Giry, and Marguerite seated at a table in the corner. Scattered about them were bags. They looked as if they were ready to go. I approached them cautiously; Christine had told me to come prepared to fight. I reached their table, clearing my throat to call their attention to my presence. Meg glanced up first.

"Raoul," she greeted me with a smile, getting to her feet.

"Vicomte de Changy," Madame Giry said with far less warmth, "I was told that you were to come at four o'clock and it is now six."

"My deepest apologies," I offered, bowing my head slightly, "May I carry that for you?" She gave me a curt nod and rose to her feet. I grabbed two of the bags and offered to carry Meg's as well, but she shook her head.

"Your hands are full enough as is," she whispered. I smiled at her.

"Why three?" I asked, gesturing towards the luggage.

"Mother went back," she responded, there was no need to specify exactly to where Madame Giry returned, "One bag contains some of Christine's things." I nodded, allowing a tiny smile to creep onto my lips at the mention of Christine. I was anxious to return. While I had been conversing with Meg, Madame Giry was saying goodbye to Marguerite. Marguerite then rounded on Meg for a farewell. Meg seemed a little overwhelmed with the attention from the older woman as she was smothered in a great bear hug. Never-the-less she promised to write, then it was my turn.

"Vicomte, it is a pleasure."

"It is good to see you, madame," I replied. She seemed to greatly enjoy being addressed formally for a broad grin broke out on her face.

"Such a gentleman," she smiled, "that girl is lucky to have you. How is she?"

"Much better since you last saw her," I assured her, "but I do believe she will be anxious to see her friends." I wanted to be polite to this woman who had shown us such kindness, but I wanted to return home to my Christine even more.

"Of course, of course. Get you three!" She shooed us out the door. I didn't need to be told twice.

I pushed the horses faster and faster as the house came into view.

"Almost there," I called back to the two passengers, trying hard to make myself heard over the wind. It was so cold. I had lost feeling in my fingers and face some time ago. The snow was deep and the horses were straining hard to drag the carriage through. We would make it. I could see the lights of the house and the warmth that lay within; I could almost picture Christine waiting by a window, watching the road because she was worried about us. Yes, we would make.

"We were worried you wouldn't make it, master," said the stable manager as he took the horses.

"Nothing to worry about," I assured him. I hopped out and moved to help Meg and Madame Giry out, but before I got far I heard a call from behind.

"Raoul!" I smiled and turned to face the speaker.

"Christine," I breathed. "Uff." She had thrown herself into my arms, burying her head in my shoulder.

"I was worried," she whispered, "I was afraid you wouldn't make it, that you would be trapped out there." I hurt me to see her truly afraid. I held her close for a moment before pushing her away so I could look into her eyes.

"No need," I whispered, brushing a stray curl from her face, "I'm safe. We all are." I backed away slightly to allowing her to get a glimpse of her two friends. Meg and her mother both had remained in the carriage. They looked a little uncomfortable at having witnessed such a personal moment. Christine's face lit up at the sight of them, making me overjoyed. Forgetting her previous embarrassment, Meg leapt from the carriage to embrace her friend; Madame Giry followed, but with a little more dignity.

"Let's go inside," I suggested, I was sure Meg and Madame Giry were as cold as I was from the journey, and I could see Christine already trembling with cold, "I'm sure a lovely dinner has been prepared." I told the stable manager to have somebody bring the luggage up to the house before turning back towards the other three. Christine slipped her hand into mine, giving it a slight squeeze. I squeezed hers back and led the way through the snow up to the house.

Dinner had been pleasant. I knew Christine had enjoyed herself so I, in turn, had had a great time. After dinner was over, I had quickly excused myself from the table, giving the unconventional family a chance to talk. I had been sitting in my study for a couple of hours, carefully considering Andre and Firmin's request. What I really wanted was to be able to discuss it with Christine, but I would not interrupt her current happiness with mention of the Opera. Caught up in my thoughts, I did not notice anyone enter the room. In fact, not until I felt two very familiar hands rest on my shoulders did I realize I was no longer alone. I twisted around in my chair to face Christine.

"Hello," she whispered.

"Hello, love," I replied, covering one of her small hands with my large one. I suddenly had an idea. I looked at her mischievously, sizing her up.

"Raoul…" she started suspiciously, but before she could finish I had swept her off her feet. She let out a playful scream (much better then the screams of terror I had heard so often). I secured her in my lap and grinned triumphantly down at her. Once the shock had worn off, she smiled softly back up at me. She reached up to cup my face in her hand, slowly, agonizingly, traced every feature of it. I sighed contentedly, reaching up and pulling her hand to my lips and placing a loving kiss on the palm. She giggled and rested her head on my shoulder.

"Are you content, Little Lotte?" I questioned.

"Of course," she replied, "I have everyone I love under the same roof now. What more could I ask for?" I held her closer. She sat quietly, watching the snow fall, and I sat quietly watching her. The moonlight, being greatly amplified by all of the snow, reflected upon her skin, giving her an ethereal glow. The numerous stars were mirrored in her chocolate brown orbs. She looked as if she had just descended to me from heaven. She felt my eyes upon her and turned to face me. I received an inquisitive, half smile that clearly questioned what I was staring at. I just shook my slightly in response and leaned down to press my lips against hers. I felt her hand move to the base of my neck, pulling me closer. Our tongues moved gracefully together, twirling to a dance only the two of us knew the steps to. Finally the need for oxygen forced us apart, as it always seemed to do. Christine shifted slightly in my lap, moving, if at all possible, closer to me. I placed a small kiss on her forehead. We sat in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying one another's company.

"Christine?" I asked to get her attention. I figured I should tell her about my meeting with Andre and Firmin now rather then later.

"Yes?"

"Today, when I went to see Andre and Firmin," I carefully began, I would have to be very careful about how I worded this, "They had a question for me." She raised her eyebrows ever so slightly at my inability to find the words.

"And?" she prompted.

"Well," I began again, "Their purpose for asking me there was to ask whether or not I would fund the rebuilding of the Opera." I tensed slightly. I really had no idea how this news would be received. Christine spun around like lightning in my lap, and, to my surprise, I found her eyes lit up with excitement.

"They'll rebuild it?" Her voice shared the excitement I saw in every other part of her body. I just nodded, still not completely sure what to say. "What did you tell them?"

"I said I would have to talk with you first," I responded, "Do you want this?"

"Yes!" she practically shouted. She looked like a little girl on Christmas Eve just then. I allowed myself a small chuckle at her excitement. Even in the dark, I could see a small blush creep onto her cheeks. She lowered her gaze slightly, embarrassed at her outburst. My laughter died out as I cupped her chin in my hand and made her meet my gaze.

"But what if _he's_ still there?" I voiced my one fear. I was afraid he would try and take her away again.

"Even if he is," she replied, attempting to keep her voice level, but she could not hide the fear that shone in her eyes, "he will not take me. He won't. He promised." She seemed to be attempting to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince me.

"You don't believe that," I said gently, cupping her cheek in my hand.

"He's just a man." A man? I remember the last time she said that. Just days before the premiere of Don Juan, she had told me, with confidence, that he was only a man, but he had taken her anyway. I could lose her to another man just as easily as I could lose her to an angel. I looked at her sadly. "The Opera was the only home I knew for so long. It gave me so much. Please, Raoul, will you do this one thing for me?" she begged. She was afraid, that was for sure, but I could tell how much she wanted this.

"This is what you want?" She nodded her head furiously. "Then you shall have it, my Little Lotte, and it shall be twice as grand and twice as beautiful and twice as splendid as it was before." She giggled and threw her arms around me.

"Thank you," she whispered into the crook of my neck, "Thank you for doing this."

"I would do_ anything_ for you," I whispered back. After a moment, I heard her stifle a yawn in my shoulder. "Come, love, you've had a long day." She mumbled something incoherent. I wasn't sure if it was a protest or an agreement, but, regardless, I stood up with her still in my arms. I moved through the silent house towards her room. It was a little difficult to open the door with a sleepy Christine in my arms, but I managed. The fire in the room had been allowed to die down. The embers cast a soft glow around the room. I placed Christine in between the covers before moving towards the fire. I prodded at it until it sparked back to life. After making sure there was enough wood on it for it to burn for a few hours, I made to leave.

"No," whispered Christine from her bed, "Stay, please." I smiled and moved towards her bed, sitting down on the edge of it.

"I have to go and write that letter, so we can rebuild the Opera."

"Please," she sounded scared now, "Today has been so perfect. I don't want to have any nightmares tonight." I almost cried then. I could not stand to see her so afraid. I silently cursed that monster. He refused to let go of his hold on her.

"Of course, Little Lotte," I said, climbing in between the covers to lie next to her, "Tonight, I will scare them all away." I wrapped my arms around her tiny frame and pulled her flush against me. Tonight, at least, I would forget all sense of propriety, for her sake. She rested her head on my chest and gave a contented sigh.

"Good night, Raoul," she whispered, placing a small kiss on my chest.

"Good night, Little Lotte," I said back, kissing the top of her angelic head, "Sweet dreams."

**A/N**

**Well, another chapter. Hope ya'll enjoyed it. Sorry about the wait. School is crazy. I really am updating as fast as I can. I'm trying desperately hard to give this more of a plot. I think I kinda have it figured out. Oh, and when I said that I was going to do a 180 with Christine's character I assure you I do NOT mean that I'm going to make her love the Phantom. EWWWWWWW! No, I'm just going to try and make her a little more innocent, that's all. Ummm, yeah. sighs I wish I had a man like Raoul. Don't we all. Thank you for all of you lovely reviews. I really, really love em. Please, continue to review! Until I get another chapter out! Ta!**

**Oh yeah, and please forgive my typos. I just turned in a big paper and have no desire to proofread. I hate proofreading. I'm really bad at it too. Oh well. What was I saying? Oh yeah, forgive the typos. I know they're there. I'm just being lazy and I don't want to find them. lol! **


	6. Eight Months

**Disclaimer: Hmmm I haven't been doing these have I? Well, I guess I don't own anything. I know, shocker. You could probably I don't even own my "original" characters because no character in any literature is completely original. In fact, you could argue that there hasn't even been an original story since Homer's Illiad. But, if that's true, then no one could really own POTO without having to give some credit to writers, lyricists, composers, etc. that came before them. Something to think about. Wow, I'm a loser for typing that long of a disclaimer. Wait, what was I saying? Give me a second….Jeopardy theme in the background…..scratches head…..I have got it! You ready for this. clears throat Do not sue me! **

**Meg's POV**

The day was young at the de Changy estate. My mother and I had been guests for a little over a week now. It had been simply splendid. It was nice to be near Christine again. She was so happy. She was almost her old self again, almost the friend I knew before the Opera Ghost came along. Of course, now, the only difference was her love for Raoul. Before the young Vicomte came back into the picture, she was always shy and timid when it came to the subject of love and men. Whenever another, though I will admit, more bawdy chorus girl would take up the subject, Christine would blush furiously and turn away from the group. Not that I stayed and hung on their every word, but I was less terrified of the notion of men than she was. But, now, she was completely different. I saw the way she and Raoul looked at each other. Yes, there was pure love, but you would have to be blind to miss the other emotions swimming in their eyes.

Just the thought of them _together _like that was enough to bring a maiden blush to my cheeks. I was a decent French girl after all. I shook the impure thoughts from my mind and turned my attention to the frosty garden in which I was seated in. Unlike Christine, I was born and raised in Paris. This past week had been my first time away from the city. I found the country pleasant, but not all that intriguing. I would always prefer the hustle and bustle of Paris. The one thing the country held on Paris in my eyes was the cleanliness of it all. The air was fresh and the sky, clear.

"Meg?" I turned to find Christine, moving in between the snow-covered flowerbeds to come to my side.

"Christine," I greeted. She smiled at me. I slid over on the stone bench I had been occupying, making room for her. She gracefully sat down. She did not say anything; she just looked around at the snow covered land. She seemed particularly interested snow that was drifting lazily from the sky. We watched flake after flake descend to the ground.

"Even in winter, it's so beautiful," she whispered, though I doubted it was aimed directly at me. She seemed more like she was simply thinking out loud.

Nevertheless, I responded, "It is." She turned her head to face me.

"You miss the city," she observed. I bit my lip. I didn't want to seem ungrateful to all that she and Raoul had provided me with. I just nodded. "I miss it a little too."

"I'm surprised. With the company you have here, it's a wonder you would ever want to go back." I could not resist the urge to tease my life long friend. She averted her gaze, blushing. She may look at that man one way, but, in many ways, she was still the innocent little girl I had grown up with.

After a minute, she managed to control the color of her face. "I _do _miss it, Meg," she repeated.

"I know," I assured her.

"It will be awhile before the construction will be complete. Raoul said eight months at the least." My heart fell, eight whole months without the Opera, without Paris. Upon seeing my obvious disappointment, Christine hurriedly continued, "It'll be all right, Meg. You and Madame Giry are perfectly welcome to stay here until then. Time will fly faster then you think." I considered the idea of staying here for eight months. It would be nice to stay near Christine, but I was already longing for the city. I sighed.

'No,' I thought to myself, 'A few months in the country will do me a world of good.'

Misinterpreting my reaction, Christine's face fell. "You don't want to stay here," she whispered quietly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but I interrupted her.

"No," I said quickly, "that's not it at all. There's nothing I would like more." Her face lit up.

"Excellent!"

We sat in silence for a few minutes. She seemed like she had no intention of saying anything, but I could take it no longer. I broke the chilly quiet with, what I thought was, a conversational question. "When will the wedding be, Christine?" Her face darkened ever so slightly.

"Nine months," she whispered.

"Not until November?" I asked incredulously. Surely they would not have to wait that long. She just nodded. "Why?"

"The typical time of engagement for a noble marriage is a year," she explained, "Raoul is a Vicomte. No one would marry us before November. We were even lucky to find minister to perform the ceremony then." I was shocked. I couldn't really believe all nobles waited a whole year to marry.

I decided to voice this thought. "Surely all nobility doesn't wait an entire year just to marry."

"They don't," she whispered, "The church is only abiding by this formality because of my status."

"Did they say that?" I asked, appalled at the very thought.

"How could they?" she said, somewhat sarcastically. She was being sarcastic? This was not the Christine I was used to. "No, they did not need to say anything. I understand." She stared off into the distance. "He's going through so much trouble for me, Meg. He shouldn't have to."

"He loves you, Christine." I took a firm grip on her shoulders, forcing her to face me. "He would do anything for you." She gave me a weak smile. "You don't believe me?"

A single tear fell down her cheek. "I don't know, Meg."

_Think of him_

_Think of him now_

I knew my voice paled in comparison to Christine's, but I felt this was the only way to get my point across. She turned away from me, but, once again, I made her face me.

_Think of him_

_Think of him fondly_

_I know_

_He thinks of you_

_Think of he_

_He that loves you_

_Trust me_

She stood up, and began to walk away from me. With her back turned, she began to sing back to me.

_You ask me to_

_Have faith that he_

_Will always love me for me_

_That he'll ignore the wealth_

_Or lack thereof_

She was still sarcastic, but I could tell that she was more scared than anything. She was afraid of being turned out by him.

_Think of him_

_Think of the man_

_I know that you love_

_Remember him_

_Remember the one that saved you_

I walked over to her. "Trust me, Christine. Something as trivial as nobility will not keep Raoul from you. He's too good a man." She turned to me. Her eyes were still damp, but they held hope now.

"Hup, hup." We both spun around to see Raoul driving a sleigh out of the stables. His practiced hands guided the two large horses through the snow and towards us. He pulled them to a halt at the boundary of the garden. He leapt from the carriage and moved in our direction. Once he reached us, he bowed with mock formality.

"Mademoiselles," he addressed us, "Can I interest either of you in a sleigh ride?" He grinned toothily at us, and made a broad gesture to the scenery. "You see, the day, though brisk, is a gorgeous one, and we would hate to miss the opportunity to enjoy it." He finally took note of Christine's distraught appearance. "Christine, love," he whispered, moving towards her, "Whatever is the matter?" He placed a loving hand upon each of her trembling shoulders. She bit her lip nervously, and looked to the ground. A single tear slid down her cheek. Raoul gently removed his hands from her shoulders and cupped her face. He brushed the tear away with his thumb. He stood like that for several moments, staring deeply into her wide, brown eyes.

I averted my gaze to the snow after a few seconds of this. It always embarrassed me a little when I witnessed one of these moments. If I was Christine, I certainly wouldn't want an audience.

"Oh, Christine," Raoul breathed. I turned back to the couple. Raoul had drawn Christine into arms, and was whispering sweet nothings into her hair. Every so often, he would go silent as he placed a small, loving kiss on the top of her head. She was as unmoving as a statue throughout all of this, but she kept her head buried in her love's chest.

"Perhaps," I said hesitantly, breaking the silence, "You and Christine should go, Raoul."

"No," Christine interjected swiftly. She pulled her head off Raoul's chest so fast their heads collided. He took a good bang to the chin, but only closed his eyes for the briefest of seconds in pain. While Christine had hit the top of her head, her eyes only showed the discomfort for a split second before she continued speaking. "You should come too, Meg. I'm fine." Upon seeing my and Raoul's doubtful looks, she insisted, "Really."

"No. Really, it's too cold out here for me anyway," I lied with a smile. She needed to speak with Raoul without me there. She looked at me doubtfully, but, before she could say anything else, Raoul spoke up.

"Well, if you're sure, Meg,"—I nodded—"Then it's settled. Come, Christine." He put a hand on the small of her back, gently propelling her in the direction of the sleigh. We exchanged meaningful glances before he followed Christine out of the garden.

He helped Christine into sleigh, and then climbed up himself. She slid in close to him, for heat and, I expect, for _other_ reasons. He placed a small kiss on her temple before taking up the reins.

"Ya!" he called and snapped the reins firmly upon the beasts' backs. They quickly picked up a trot, and the sleigh jolted to life. Christine twisted around to give me a small wave which I returned. She moved so she was facing forward and rested her head gingerly on Raoul's shoulder.

Once the sleigh had disappeared from sight, I started back towards the large house.

The rush of warmth I felt upon entering the house was a welcomed relief. I padded silently through the halls. I still wasn't an expert at maneuvering about this house. I could get to the necessary places without problem though.

'Eight months,' I reminded myself. I had eight months to figure this house out. On the way to my room, I passed the room of my mother. It was shut tightly. I knew she was in there. That's where she has been spending all of her time since we arrived here, or at least most of it. Ever since she returned to the Opera to fetch our things, she had been distant, always thinking, but never telling anyone exactly what she was thinking about. Every time she would open her mouth, and it looked as if she was going to say something about it, she would shut it again and shake her head silently, retreating back into the recesses of her mind. I opened the door to my room, and say down at the small desk for writing letters. I unearthed a piece of parchment and a quill from the drawer, and began a letter to Marguerite. I hadn't sent one to her since our arrival, and was feeling slightly guilty.

'Dear Marguerite,' I thought, moving my pen in unison with my thoughts. I set about telling her of the estate, our happenings since leaving the Bird and Baby, and assuring her that we were all getting along just fine. Next, I started on a letter to one of my friends from the ballet. By the time I had finished, it was time for dinner.

I was not sure what to expect upon entering the dining room, but one glance at Christine quickly told me that she was much better. Whatever Raoul had told her on their ride had most definitely worked. She beamed at me from her seat next to Raoul.

"Hello, Meg," she smiled. I returned her grin and moved towards my chair. Ever the gentleman, Raoul quickly rose and pulled the chair out for me.

"Thank you." He inclined his head slightly and moved to sit down again, but before he had made contact with the chair my mother walked in. He immediately stood once again, and pulled the chair out for her.

"Thank you, monsieur le Vicomte," she thanked him. He gave her also a tiny nod of the head, though this time it was coupled with a slightly annoyed look. He had asked her repeatedly to call him by his first name, but my mother, being stubborn, had refused, continuing to address him by his title. He finally was able to take his seat just as the food was being brought in.

The meal went as usual. Christine, Raoul, and I would talk animatedly, while my mother would sit, speaking on occasion, but more often then not she was caught up in her own thoughts. After the last dish had been cleared away, Raoul, Christine, and I stood and left (my mother had excused herself some time ago). While Christine and Raoul were going to the sitting room, I made up my mind to follow my mother's example and retire. I liked spending time with the two, but I often felt like I was intruding, even though they constantly repeated that I was not. We walked together through the halls for a minute, before reaching the door of the sitting room. Christine bid me good night and slipped inside. Raoul was about to follow suit, but I put my arm on his to stop him. He gave me a quizzical stare.

"Is she all right?" Christine was my sister, in almost every sense of the word.

"Yes," he promised.

"This afternoon,"—I checked the expression on his face to see whether or not I would have to explain. One glance told me he knew exactly what had frightened Christine so badly—"Promise me that you won't hurt her. Assure me that I wasn't lying to her today." I knew Raoul was a good man, but even the best of men have their limits as to what they can and can't take. If Raoul was going to turn from Christine at the first snide comment by another noble, I wanted to tell Christine now and spare her all of the pain later.

"I would never hurt her," he said earnestly, "That is one thing I simply cannot do. You don't have to worry, Meg. As long as I live, she'll be fine. As long as I live, she won't ever hurt again." I searched his eyes for any sign of a lie. Christine, my sister, had lost a father, not once, but twice. When Gustave Daae died, and when she discovered the truth about her "Angel of Music." She had had her sanity chewed away at by the same "Angel." She had almost lost the man in front of me, and had been forced to damn herself to hell just to save him. She did not deserve any more pain.

"Love?" came Christine's voice from within the room. I smiled at him. Yes, I trusted this man. I believed him; he would not hurt her. I nodded for him to go to her, and turned around.

Throwing a, "Good night, Raoul," over my shoulder before turning the corner and disappearing from sight.

**A/N**

**How did the changed lyrics go? I don't know how I feel about them, but I haven't included any music in a long time, so I decided to add it. Some of the syllables don't quite match up because it's like the character is kinda talk/singing. I don't know how to describe it, but I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. I also altered the melody a little, but just a little. If you honestly can't figure it out, tell me and I'll post the melody in my next chapter or on my profile page. Mind you, it would be very crude (ex. Middle C, D, E), but I think it would work. That is, if you read music. And if you don't, well, you're out of luck. I'm trying really hard to set up the plot. It makes me sad because that means less fluffy chapters, and more of an actual story. The next few chapters will be fillers, so just FYI. My goal is to get two more chapters up this week, and the first "good" (AKA non-filler) up by Christmas, but that probably won't happen. Anywho, I started a forum, so come and comment about how RC is SOOOO much better than EC! Ummmm……aren't ya'll proud of me? I got a chapter up on a Monday! Yay for me! I think that's it. Until next time! Ta! **


	7. Comtess Sabine Beauclair

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything pertaining to the Phantom of the Opera. **

**Comtess Sabine Beauclair's POV**

_You are cordially invited to the engagement ball of:_

_Vicomte Raoul de Changy and his fiancé, Mademoiselle Christine Daae_

I felt bile rise in my throat as I read the invitation for the twentieth time. He was marrying? After all his mother, God rest her soul, and had arranged for him, he was marrying this _peasant_! How dare he! I slammed the letter down onto the mahogany desk in my sleeping quarters. Years ago, I had secured his marriage to my daughter, Chantal Beauclair. A noble woman of high stature and everything a young woman ought to be. She was pious, soft spoken, and delicate. Why would this scoundrel abandon these plans for another?

'Love.' The thought entered my mind before I could suppress it. I scoffed silently at myself, picking up a brush and running it through my graying hair. Love was for affairs. Love was the reason why people took lovers before marriage, but love was not for marriage itself. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and smiled dryly. Look how far I had come. I, one who had never experienced love, had come farther then I had ever dreamed. My husband had been honorable, noble, and, most importantly, wealthy. Everything a woman would seek in a man. I had been happy the day my mother had announced my marriage to him. I thought I had secured that for my daughter years ago, when she was only a small child. How wonderful all of these years had been, knowing that she would be safe. I had been so proud of having assured my daughter's future with a man from such a family as the de Changys. But now, this Christine Daae had come around and destroyed everything I had worked for!

'The whore, the harlot,' I fumed silently, ripping savagely at my hair. She would soon understand her mistake at having targeted monsieur le Vicomte de Changy. Her intentions could not possibly be innocent. She was a gold digger, nothing more. Le Vicomte was a noble man, but one with a soft heart. I severely doubted whether he had the backbone to resist a pretty girl in distress. It was all the more reason for him to accept my beautiful Chantal. Yes, one look at her and this whore would pale from his eyes and vanish from his thoughts.

"Mother?" It was the soft, delicate voice of my daughter. I felt the tiniest pang of guilt. She knew nothing of this plan. I had never told her of her marriage. When she was a child, she had been such a dreamer. She loved tales of fairies and goblins. All those tales of nonsense where the handsome, charming prince always came to save the poor, captured princess, and together they rode off into the sunset. She dreamed of true love then, and I had not had the heart to dash her hopes of finding hers. Chantal was my one and only blessing. She was my first born, but after her came a long string of miscarriages. Chantal was my everything.

'For her,' I promised to my reflection in the mirror, 'I will make the Mademoiselle Daae wish she had never heard of le Vicomte de Changy.'

"Mother? We'll be late for the ball if we don't hurry."

"Coming, child," I replied. Tonight, I knew, I would have to be cordial. Perhaps, Chantal's mere presence would be enough to sway him. I stood, smoothed my skirts, and opened the door. My beautiful daughter stood before me. All the features of her face were curved in soft, perfect proportions. He skin was porcelain and her dirty blonde hair was pulled back in a grand braid. But the thing I loved most about her was her eyes. They were an exotic emerald green like her father's. They could entrance any man, woman, or child if she so chose. I hoped that she would choose tonight when she saw the young Vicomte.

"You look beautiful, daughter."

"As do you, mama," she returned my compliment, linking her arm through mine, "I'm so excited. It has been so long since I have seen Raoul." She was grinning like a little girl. It was true. It had been years since she had seen her childhood friend. At one time, they had been quite close, but with time and age they had drifted apart.

"I am too." We walked together into the main foyer and out to the waiting carriage. I paid no attention to the servant who held the door for me, but Chantal exchanged a few words with him. She seemed to be inquiring to the welfare of his family or at least something along those lines. It mattered little to me. This poor man was of little consequence. His ability to hold the door and drive the carriage was all that held any weight in my eyes. Chantal soon took her seat beside me and the carriage jolted to life.

We were not ten minutes into our journey, when the carriages pulled to a stop.

'Are we there?' I pondered. Ten minutes was enough time to make the journey to the de Changy estate, but not in the winter. I peered out the window, and, sure enough, the estate was visible in the distance. The entire estate was lit up and silhouetted against the setting sun. Even at this distance, the laughter and other sounds of the party were audible.

"What is it, Pierre?" Chantal called out to the driver.

"A rock, mademoiselle, in one of the horse's shoes," he replied, jumping down, "I'll have it out in a moment." From my seat, I could see his dark form bending down next to one of the large horses that pulled our carriage. I sighed and leaned back in the carriage. I was already at ends about this night, and this was something I did not need. I allowed my eyes to flutter shut. I felt sleep beginning to take hold of me, and as it did I heard sweet music playing in my mind. I smiled contentedly, but was swiftly roused by my daughter resting a small hand on my shoulder.

"Mother," she whispered urgently, "Do you here that?" It was then I realized the music I had heard was not imaginary, but quite real. I peered out into the fading daylight and, for the first time, noticed a heap of blankets on the side of the road. The song he sang was unfamiliar, but his voice was angelic. The rich notes of his tenor voice rang through my ears. Before I had completely lost myself in his music, it was cut short by a cough. He was sick.

"We should go out to him," Chantal said. Another good point, her compassion and charity.

"No," I snapped, "His voice is not a reflection of his character." He was a _commoner_. I would not have anybody gossiping about how a Beauclair was consorting with a _commoner_.

"Yes, mama," she whispered obediently.

"Good girl," I replied, placing my hand over hers. I only wanted what was best for her. We heard the servant, Chantal had called Pierre, climb back into the carriage and drive the horses forwards leaving all notes of this peasant behind.

The warmth and light of the party was stunning. I was impressed with the status of the guests. I hadn't expected the families that were held in higher esteem to attend, yet here they were. Though I did suspect many had come simply to inspect, or mock, this Christine Daae. Chantal remained close to my side as we entered the grand house. A servant graciously took our heavy traveling cloaks, before allowing us to continue the main hall. I quickly scanned the hall. On the opposite side I spotted de Changy and his whore. The impression I gleaned from a distance was one of only beauty. I observed her as I lead Chantal towards the young couple. Her hair was raven colored. It had been allowed to fall free in its natural curls, perfectly framing the girl's pretty face. Her eyes we a simple brown, but, in their simplicity, were stunning. She was very petite. The pale blue gown she wore illustrated that perfectly. She was so beautiful on the whole that she was attracting many jealous stares from women and stares of another sort from the men.

I could understand le Vicomte's attraction certainly. They were talking with each other. They seemed very unsociable to be the host and hostess of this gala. While le Vicomte's back was turned to us, the harlot's wasn't. She noticed us and reached up to him. She placed one small hand on his cheek and rose to her tip toes to whisper something in his ear.

'Whore,' I thought. That type of contact was left for the bedroom. De Changy turned quickly. His eyes flashed with recognition. I placed on a large, phony smile.

"Vicomte," I greeted, curtsying. I knew Chantal must have been doing the same behind me.

"Cometess Beauclair," I said, inclining his head in greeting. "Chantal?" He finally noticed my daughter's presence. She nodded, stepping forward shyly. His grin broadened, and he stepped forward and embraced her. "My, how you've grown!" he exclaimed, pulling away.

"You've grown too, Raoul," she returned. I could not suppress a smug smile. Things just might work out the way they were supposed to. He swiftly let go of Chantal and drew the whore to him.

"I don't believe you've met my fiancé," he said, wrapping an arm around her waist, "Christine, this is Comtess Sabine Beauclair and her daughter Chantal. Comtess, Chantal, this is my fiancé, Christine."

She gave us a sickly sweet smile. "Pleased to meet you both," she said courteously.

"I met them upon my return to Paris," he explained. She still looked confused. "The summer," he clarified, "After your father passed." She bit her bottom lip and turned her face to the floor. Her distress was obvious; we all took note of it. De Changy's eyes flooded with compassion for the whore. For the second time that night, I felt bile rise in my throat. It was all I could stand to watch this title-less, penny-less, gold digger be coddled by a French noble. I could almost hear his mother turning in her grave.

I gave Chantal a pointed look, gesturing towards the five piece orchestra that had just stared up a new tune. She shook her head slightly, glancing over to the young lovers. They were too absorbed in each other to notice this exchange. I gave her a hard glare. She would listen to me. She gave me one last pained look before turning to le Vicomte.

"Raoul," she said to get his attention, "Would you do me the honor of this dance?"

"Umm," he stammered, glancing down at the whore. She gave him a small smile.

"Go," she whispered, reaching up and placing a small kiss on his cheek. I bit my tongue sharply to avoid a harsh comment.

"Of course," he accepted, disentangling himself from the harlot and extending an elbow to my daughter.

'Excellent,' I thought as they walked off together.

The sound of someone clearing their throat made me turn. I found the whore still standing before me. Though I was ecstatic that my daughter and de Changy were alone together, I did not relish spending time alone with this harlot. I was spared having to think of something to say by the sudden appearance of another woman.

I did not know where she had come from; she was just all of a sudden there. She was older, but moved as if she was young. Her hair was done in one big braid and her dress was very plain. A look of mistrust, directed towards me, was evident in her eyes.

"I do not believe we have had the pleasure of meeting," I greeted her cordially.

"Madame Giry," she said, rather shortly. Is that how she expected me to address her? Madame Giry? She could not be serious, but nothing on her face suggested a joke. She placed a maternal hand on the whore's shoulder.

"Comtess Beauclair," I replied, just as shortly. If she was a defender of this whorish slut, then I would not extend her any more niceties then were necessary. A rather long and uncomfortable silence followed. I couldn't bear her aquiline gaze any longer. "Did you work in the Opera?" It was the politest thing I could think of to say. I knew the whore had worked there; perhaps that's where she and this Madame Giry met.

She nodded. "In the ballet." She did not looked prepared to offer any more information, but I was surprised as she opened her mouth and said, "Christine worked there, for a time. That is, before she was moved to prima donna." She glowed with pride as she said the last bit.

"Is that so?" I replied, trying desperately hard to sound polite. Something told me this was not a woman I wanted as an enemy. "My daughter and I attended a few times. I heard that your lead male singer was killed in the fire. Is that really true? And are you to rebuild?" I saw the whore stiffen as I spoke those words. What had I said? I had not meant any of _that_ to be offensive.

"Yes," the ballet mistress replied, "The construction will be completed in August. Le Vicomte de Changy has generously agreed to renew his patronage. As for Piangi, he was killed," she finished vaguely. The whore tensed even more at those words.

"Yes," she interjected, trying hard to hide her tension, "We shall have some trouble finding a replacement."

"Will you?" My thoughts leapt back to the peasant we had encountered on our way here.

The song ended, and de Changy and my daughter returned, their faces flushed from dancing.

"Christine," de Changy said, returning like a dog to her side, "while we were dancing we had several requests for a song from you." She opened her mouth to say something, but Chantal stopped her.

"Oh, you really must, Christine. I've heard you have the voice of an angel." The whore blushed at the compliment.

"Please, Little Lotte," de Changy whispered. Little Lotte? What the hell was that? She smiled in assent, and Giry gave her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. De Changy seized her hand in his own and lead her over towards the orchestra. He consulted her and whispered something to the piano player, who nodded.

"Excuse me," de Changy said loudly, raising his voice so as to be heard, "Due to popular demand, y beautiful fiancé would like to sing a song from the opera Hannibal." The hall erupted with cheers and applause as the harlot stood forward. The piano player began and, a few measures later, she entered.

_Think of me_

_Think of me fondly_

_When we've said goodbye_

_Remember me_

_Once and while _

_Please promise me you'll try_

_When you find _

_That once again you long_

_To take your heart back and be free_

_If you ever find a moment_

_Stop and think of me_

Her voice was beautiful. I could not deny her that. But as I said before, voice is not a direct reflection of character. I looked over to see Chantal at my side.

"They're so in love, mama," she said dreamily.

'No!' I thought. This is not the way it was supposed to be. That dog of a noble was supposed to marry my daughter! Not this singing whore!

'He will,' I thought sinisterly, 'He will.' If it was the last thing I did, this man would make my Chantal his bride. But as I looked at him, staring entranced at the whore, I knew I would have to remove her from the picture first. If not, he would not turn from the harlot, not even for someone as perfect and desirable as my Chantal.

"We shall have some trouble finding a replacement." The whore's words echoed in my mind.

'A replacement,' I carefully pondered. I, once again, recalled the commoner with the beautiful voice. A sinister grin crept across my face.

"I'll be back shortly," I assured Chantal and walked, as if towards the drinks, but, at the last moment, slipped outside of the hall into the now empty foyer.

_Recall those days_

_Look back on all those times_

_Think of the things we'll never do_

_There will never be_

_A day_

_When I won't think of—_

The whore's voice cut off abruptly as I shut the door. I walked down the cobblestone walk of the de Changy estate, carefully peering at each carriage until I found my own.

"You," I said sharply, "Peasant!" The servant woke with a start, almost stumbling out of his seat.

"Comtess," he said, startled, "I was not expected you so early. I apologize if I…"

I cut him off. "Do you remember where one of the horses took a rock in his shoe?"

"What?" he asked, still groggy with sleep.

"Do you remember it?" I snapped. This man was incompetent. Perhaps I should let him go.

"Ay, Madame. I remember it," he said, finally fully waking up.

"Take me there."

**A/N**

**Sorry this is a little late. I really wanted to get this out before I left, so please forgive the typos. I honestly didn't have time to proof read. Happy Bleated Holidays! Check out my profile page for my amazing news! So excited! Until next time! Ta! **


	8. Schemes and Dreams

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Don't sue me!**

**Alexandre Leroy's POV**

I shivered in the cold. It was so cold. I brought my hands to my lips and blew fiercely on them. They remained cold as ice. Even my breath lacked warmth now. I pulled my hands back into the sleeves of my tattered jacket as far as they would go. My shivering persisted. I pulled my one possession, a pathetic excuse for a blanket, tighter about me. I opened my mouth in an attempt to sing in order to distract myself. I came out as a rasp. My poor voice. My singing was my one talent, my one comfort.

I felt like crying, but I would not allow myself the luxury. It was not because I worried about what people would think if they saw me weeping like a woman; it was the thought of the frigid cold trails tears would leave on my cheeks. I attempted a small laugh at how much I had changed since I left home, but it swiftly turned into a hacking cough. I was sick, very, very sick. It was this damn cold.

'Why did I leave?' I wondered to myself, but even as the question crossed my mind I had an answer ready. It was because of my family. I remembered their emaciated frames, a result of the many watered down soups that we had called our meals, as they bid me farewell. We were nothing more than a poor country family. One of many. When I was four, my father had broken his ankle when he was working out on the family's land. He had died the following week of infection. My mother had done the best she could under the circumstances, but her best wasn't enough. Under those circumstances, no _woman's_ best would have ever been enough. I was the only boy. With two younger sisters, all the responsibility fell on my shoulders. My mother turned over all the land to my name when I was fourteen. But, in order to keep us alive during those ten years, she had been gradually selling off the land. By the time it was turned over to me, there was hardly any land left.

We had struggled to survive off that land for three years before I finally gave up. I had sold the last of the farm land and made my way to Paris. I had thought I would get a job; I didn't care what it was. The money from the land was enough to keep them alive for awhile; I didn't think it would run out before I found work and was able to send money home to them, but work was scarce. I had left home five months ago.

"Please, God," I prayed, "Let them be all right. Let me find work. Please, God. I need to find work. I don't care what, or how, just let me find work. Amen." I made the cross like my mother had taught me when I was a boy. A single tear streaked down my face. I cursed silently as I rushed to wipe it away. At the same time, I suppressed the sacrilegious thoughts; I was pretty sure it might alter effectiveness of my prayer.

'What's the point?' It was the one thought that snuck through. Despite my worries that God might still be listening, I couldn't help but silently agree with myself. All my life I had prayed for things. I prayed for things for myself, things for my sisters, and things for my mother. But never, not once, was a prayer of mine granted. I couldn't help but think God had forsaken me.

I had rarely gotten anything I wanted, and when I did I couldn't let go. Even if I wanted to.

In the distance, I heard a carriage approach. I poked my head out of the meager security of my blanket to see who was approaching. I immediately recognized the carriage as that of nobility. I watched its approach with envy. Whoever the noble was, they were tucked away, safe from the elements, in their cozy carriage. I assumed they must be heading home to their large estates where they could consume as much food as their royal bellies would hold. My mouth watered. How wonderful it would be to feel full. I could not remember the last time I was able to fill my stomach. In fact, I wasn't sure I had ever been properly full.

Much to my surprise, the carriage pulled to a stop in front of my huddled form. The driver leapt from his seat. My first thought was that one of the horses had a rock in its shoe. It had happened once before that night. But the driver didn't move towards either of the horses. Instead, he walked briskly to the door. He pulled it open and a woman stepped out. She was tall and her hair was grey, suggesting she was aged. She was dressed elegantly. I supposed she must have come from the party that was being held just a quarter of a mile down the road. But it was not her dress that kept my attention but her face. All of her features were aquiline in appearance, giving the impression of a stern, unforgiving, and observant disposition. She made her way over to me.

"You," she said coldly. Her voice certainly matched her appearance. "Peasant, what is your name?" I glared up at her from the ground. I didn't care if she was nobility; I did not take kindly to being treated like a sewer rat.

"Alexandre Leroy," I replied, just as coldly. She appeared surprised by the tone of my voice. Her mouth opened for a snappy retort. A more sensible person would have been frightened. A lowly peasent did not talk back to a noble, but I lacked common sense.

She reined in her temper, surprising me. "Alexandre," she repeated, "When I was traveling to le Vicomte de Changy's ball, I could not help but noticing you and your voice." Though her voice sounded polite, her face was anything but. The entire time it was twisted in a look of extreme disgust.

"What of it?" I rasped. I felt a cough rising in my throat. Unable to suppress it, I went into a fit. The horrible hacking coughs tore at my already damaged throat. She regarded me with disdain. But it was the type of disdain a farmer regards an old mule with. The animal may be old and tired, but they cannot afford to rid themselves of it because they need it.

"Come," she said as if she wanted anything but for me to follow her. "Come into my carriage. You shall at least be sheltered from the wind." I looked suspiciously at her. I opened my mouth to ask why she wanted to help me, but she had already turned from me, moving in the direction of the carriage. She waited impatiently for the driver to open the door for her, and then climbed inside.

The driver looked to me. "Coming?" I considered it for a moment. I remembered the look she gave me. She needed me. I didn't know why, but there was no mistaking the fact that she needed me for one reason or another. Curiosity got the better of me. I scurried to my feet and into the carriage.

She sat, still as a statue. She did not acknowledge my presence, not when I entered, not when I sat down opposite her. Her gaze was fixed on some invisible form just outside the carriage. She did not speak, and I, being stubborn, would not break the chilly silence either. My sickness, however, did not agree with me as I broke into a coughing fit. When I had gained control, she was staring at me with the same needy disgust.

"Why are you in Paris?" I almost laughed. Surely she did not bring me here to make small talk.

"My family needs money. My father died when I was four," I offered. Until I knew what she wanted, I would not give any more. She nodded.

"And have you secured this money?"

"Jobs are scarce, and I have few marketable talents." I thought of my voice. That was my only real talent.

"Your voice certainly seems decent enough to secure a job at an Opera House," she commented. My voice. She wanted my voice, but why?

"I have no connections to obtain such a job. I have no housing, no money. My health is failing; I would be surprised if anyone would hire a sickly, poor man whose voice could fail at any moment, as I'm certain mine will with this cough. Besides, the Opera was razed."

"It is being rebuilt," she said disinterestedly. I allowed hope to swell in my chest. I had no doubt that many would not want to return to their old jobs with all that had happened.

'Superstition,' I thought. Yes, I had heard the fables of the Phantom of the Opera, but I put no credence in them. No, I wasn't afraid of a ghost. Maybe I could fill one of those positions.

Just as quickly as hope had come, it left me. One still needed connections to get a job, or at least a well paying one. The type that I needed.

"So?" I retorted. She leaned towards me conspiratorially.

"What if I told you I could secure you a job there? What if I said you would be replacing Ubaldo Piangi?" Ubaldo Piangi? I carefully turned the name over in my mind. Yes, yes, I recognized that name. I recalled reading it in a tattered newspaper I had found blowing around the city streets. He had been the leading tenor, and was killed in the fire.

I looked at this woman with suspicion. "I would ask what you wanted in return." It was the first time she looked at me with any form of respect.

"You are more intelligent than I expected." I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or flattered. "You are correct in assuming I want something in return."

"And that would be?"

"Seduce the prima donna." Her bluntness shocked me. My knowledge of nobility was limited, but I didn't think they were that blunt.

"Wh…what?" I stuttered slightly.

She plowed on as if I hadn't said anything. "Her name is Christine Daae. I need you to seduce her. Quite frankly, I do not care if she loves you or you her. All I care about is that you remove her from Paris, before November." I stared stupidly at her. Had she really just asked that of me?

"Why?"

"My reasons are my own," she replied coldly. I tried my best to read her in the darkness. She would have given nothing away even if it had been light out. I turned my gaze out the window. If this woman was sincere, this was an opportunity I could not refuse. I had always done well with woman at home. Yes, this was an amazing offer.

"I assure you she's very pretty." I carefully watched her for any sign of a lie. She mistook my studious gaze for one of indecision. "I will pay you for your troubles as well, and give you a warm bed to recover in." My eyebrows rose. That I had not been expecting, but I would not deny the offer.

"How much?" She looked me up and down, as if deciding just how much I was worth.

"85,000 francs," she finally said.

"90,000." I wanted to know just how much influence I had in this situation. She gave me a dry smile.

"90,000. Half now and half when the job is done," she agreed. "My driver will return here in a moment and escort you back to my estate." I nodded, and climbed from the carriage. Upon touching the ground, I looked back up at the shadow of a woman.

"What's your name?" It struck me as odd that I hadn't taken the time to learn it sooner.

"Cometess Sabine Beauclair," she replied with pride. I inclined my head at her. In the darkness, she could not see the sarcasm in my action as she closed the door with a loud thud. I watched the carriage until I could no longer make out its shadowed form against the black night sky.

I sighed, sat down, and pulled my pathetic excuse for a blanket around me. Once again, I was left to only my thoughts.

True to her word, le Cometess sent her driver back to me. The journey to her estate was not terribly long. Time of the streets could teach even the most eager man the meaning of patience.

The carriage pulled to a stop. I immediately jumped out of the carriage and onto the cobblestone walk. The driver was already halfway out of his seat before I could tell him not to bother.

"It's quite all right," I assured him as he doubtfully resumed his seat.

"Look, I have to go, but you go inside and tell Cosette you're a guest of le Cometess." With that, he snapped the reins and guided the two horses down the walk.

I pushed the doors open, and walked into the grand entry way. I looked around hesitantly, not sure where to go to find this Cosette.

"Oy, you," a woman called shrilly. "What business do you have in a place like this? Mind you, there are plenty of people around to come if I scream."

"I'm sure," I replied sarcastically. I had finally located the speaker. She was a short, homely, older woman. Her back was twisted unnaturally and she carried a wooden cane. "I am a guest of le Cometess," I said coolly.

"What is her name?" she asked suspiciously.

"Sabine Beauclair." She regarded me carefully. "I'm not lying," I said, though I highly doubted it would change any perception she had of me at that moment.

"You're just a working class scamp. Aren't you?" Her guard was lowered now.

"I'm hardly a scamp," I returned coldly. Her eyebrows rose, but she didn't comment.

"Very well. You have a name?"

"Alexandre Leroy," I replied.

"Would you like some food, Alexandre?" she questioned. I nodded eagerly. She grinned at me, revealing many missing teeth.

I followed her through the grand house into the much smaller kitchen. I could not help but be impatient at this woman's slow, limping pace. After what seemed like an eternity, she placed a plate of steaming hot food in front of me. My stomach didn't allot me the time to check to see what I was eating, just enough time to wait for a fork to find its way into my hand.

Cosette sat across from me, watching me amusedly. I cleared my plate, but my appetite was not yet sated. She seemed to understand exactly what it was I wanted, and pulled my plate away.

As she walked back towards the stove, she asked, "What business do you have with my mistress?" I glanced down at my hands. Something told me le Cometess would not like me telling this old woman.

"My business is my own," I said, echoing le Cometess.

She chuckled over the stove. "Have your own way then."

"How long have you worked here?" I asked in attempts to change the subject.

"Long time," she replied, placing another plate of food in front of me. "Rather surprised she kept me on as long as she has."

"Why's that?" I shoved my mouth full to capacity.

"Look at me," she said gesturing to her misshapen body. "If she had her way, she would have sent me packing years ago. Heart of ice she has. She wouldn't care that I wouldn't be able to get work elsewhere." Her voice had taken a bitter tone. "Oh my, my tongue has run away with me. We'll keep that between us. Won't we?" I nodded. Was this Cometess really so bad?

"Why did she keep you?"

"Her daughter, Chantal. Now there's a fine specimen of a woman if I've ever seen one. Heart of gold, and the only one warm enough to melt the heart of her mother. She talked her mother into keeping me. She's the only reason I stay," she confided. I sat there, not only digesting my first meal in weeks, but also this new information. Was I right to follow this woman? One memory of my family's gaunt forms was enough to strengthen my resolve. I didn't care what following this woman entailed; my family's lives were on the line.

"Thank you, Cosette," I said, standing. "But I really must retire. If you would show me to my room."

"You know my name," she commented, but without surprise.

"The driver told it to me," I explained as she led me out of the kitchen.

"Ahh, yes, Pierre would," she whispered to herself.

We walked at her same limping pace through the many corridors until she halted in front of a tall, oak door.

"I'm not sure what room she wants you in, but this one is made up," she informed me while opening the door.

The room was magnificent. There was a large bed with royal red blankets in one corner. On the opposite side of the room, there was a fireplace and wood stacked up to one side. The room also contained a window, a desk, and a small wardrobe.

"Will this do?"

"Yes" was all I could think of to say.

"I trust you can build your own fire," she told me as she left the room.

Once she had closed the door, I moved towards the fireplace and began carefully placing logs. After I had a considerable blaze going, I moved towards the window. The darkness shrouded the potential view from my eyes. As I gazed out into the shadows, I couldn't help but think that I had fallen into my own web of darkness.

"Enough. Get a hold on yourself" I said aloud to myself in order to quell such dark thoughts. I turned back towards the bed, and climbed in, clothes and all. I slid my hands over the smooth, perfect blankets.

'These,' I thought, as I climbed in between the covers. 'These are what blankets should feel like.'

In the warm security of the bed, I watched the firelight dance and play along the walls. I entertained myself with picturing this Christine Daae. I had never had the best imagination, and all of the images I conjured up were only poor takes off the women I had met today. The first woman that walked through my imagination was missing numerous teeth, had cold, unforgiving eyes, stood hunched over, but at the same time tried to hold herself impossible high. After the second attempt was no better, I gave up and drifted off to sleep, imagining my family. For in my dreams, and only in my dreams, could I return to them.

**A/N**

**Sorry this is so late. I suffered from some writer's block about half way through. I know what the next chapter is going to be, but I don't know when I'll have it up. School is a little hectic, and (thanks to some unexpected inspiration from Roselight Writer) have started my own story. Well, I've started a history to my own story. So, I'm balancing my time between these two stories. Anywho, hope you enjoyed. Until next time! Ta! (haha, ta, that's a funny word don't you think? I love it)**


	9. The Red Scarf

**Disclaimer: Do you really think I own anything?**

**Christine's POV**

"Yes, it was lovely to meet you as well," I said for what felt like the millionth time.

"We are very pleased you came tonight," Raoul assured the departing couple. I could see the strain and impatience in his voice, though everyone else seemed oblivious to it. I laid a small hand delicately on his forearm and gave him my own tired smile. He returned my affections with a tired yet sincere grin. It was the first _true_ smile I had seen on his face for some time. All night we had endured many underhanded, snide comments. I was surprised, though, that most of the comments were directed towards Raoul rather than to myself. I suppose no one expected me to behave any better, but Raoul, a noble, was a different story. Despite everything, he had remained very much a gentleman, even replying with a few remarks of his own.

When a particularly large and rude couple had asked Raoul when the wedding would be called off, he had responded, "Oh, no time soon I assure you. Although I'm not sure you'll be able to attend our wedding with a new baby on the way. When is it due?" The woman had indignantly put her hand to her belly while her husband tried hard to maintain the illusion of calm. Needless to say, they left within the minute.

I smiled and bit my lip to hold back laughter. Raoul looked down at me, eyebrows raised.

"What, may I ask, do you find so amusing?" I just shook my head. My first instinct was to lean up to kiss him in order to silence him, but stopped myself at the last moment. I was all too aware of the burning gazes of the countless departing couples. Raoul, however, appeared to be completely oblivious as he continued to lean down. His lips claimed mine in a tender kiss.

For one brief moment, everything was forgotten. My world shrunk so that only he was left in it.

"Ahem." I pulled away with a start. I felt my face flush, but forced myself to turn and face the newcomer. Though I didn't look at him, I could feel Raoul's annoyance. He sighed and settled for burying a hand in my dark tresses. It was the same fat couple as before. The woman was sucking in her stomach and throwing out her busty chest. She obviously took pride in the fact that her breasts were larger than mine, although she continued to look enviously at my flat stomach.

"My wife and I will be departing," the man said.

"It was a pleasure to have you here," Raoul lied. The couple missed his obvious sarcasm. I simply remained quiet at his side and smiled at the appropriate times while Raoul exchanged a few pleasantries.

"Your voice was marvelous," the woman added at the last minute. I smiled and nodded my thanks. Raoul gently massaged the base of my neck in his private compliments. "I should love to hear you again."

"You will just have to come to the Opera when it reopens." Andre had suddenly appeared with Firmin not far behind.

"As you might know," Firmin began, coming up behind Andre. I fought the urge to roll my eyes at the eccentric pair. "Our noble Vicomte has agreed to renew his patronage."

"And our beautiful Miss Daae had graciously agreed to reprise her role as prima donna," Andre interjected.

"Well, we will all look forward to that," the fat man said with impatience. "We really must be going. My darling is tired from the festivities." He looked affectionately at his wife, patting her forearm.

This show of tenderness touched me. Perhaps if I gave these people another chance, they would redeem themselves.

The fat couple departed, and Andre and Firmin left soon after. After reciting the customary niceties countless times, the hall was finally almost empty. Only two women, beside Madame Giry and Meg, remained.

The younger of the two was very pretty in an exotic way. While many would say I was more classically beautiful, this girl was one of a kind. She was taller then most woman of the day, standing just a few centimeters below Raoul's eye level. Her eyes were also something to be boasted about. Their striking green color danced and changed with the emotions of their owner. The older did not at all resemble her child. Every feature of her face was sharp and her eyes…her eyes were equally striking as those of her daughter but not at all in the same way. Her eyes were cold and unforgiving. Something about them made me instinctively distrust the woman, but Raoul appeared to have an attachment to her and her daughter. They could not be that awful. In fact, I found the daughter to be quite nice.

From across the room, I saw the older woman whisper something to her daughter who shook her head furiously. In response, le Cometess only raised her eyebrows until I thought they would be forever lost in her hairline. Chantal slumped in acquiescence and followed her mother towards us like an obedient, little puppy.

The two reached us and curtsied formally. I mirrored their action, not wanting those reproachful eyes to linger too long on me.

"Oh I think we know each other well enough to forgo such formal greetings," Raoul said, moving his hand in a dismissive gesture.

"It was so good to see you again, Raoul," Chantal said earnestly.

"Yes," he replied warmly, "It has been too long." I heard the pattering of footsteps as Meg and Madame Giry made their way across the hall.

"Thank you for inviting us," le Comtess said. But her eyes were no longer on either of us but on Madame Giry who had just arrived at my shoulder with Meg not far behind. I could tell Madame Giry did not like this new woman. I was sure anyone could sense the enmity the hung thick in the air between them.

"It was nice to meet you, Christine." Chantal offered a genuine smile. It was a nice change from all the phony ones I had received over the course of the night. "And you as well, Meg." She turned her warm smile to my lifelong friend. "I do look forward to when the Opera reopens." I smiled, and made a mental note to remind Raoul just how much I loved him later.

"My," le Comtess exclaimed with a laugh and smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "It seems we are your last guests. Where has the night gone?" Raoul chuckled in response, and I employed my acting skills from the Opera to add my own tinkling laughter into the mix. While Meg had followed our leads and, using the same skills I had, joined in the laugher, Madame Giry did not and made no secret of it. Le Comtess glared disapprovingly at her before turning back to Chantal.

"Well, we must be off." With this, she gave Chantal a pointed look. Before I could begin to contemplate what that look might mean, Chantal had turned back towards us.

"It was truly lovely to meet you," she said as she embraced me. Her actions took me by surprise, but I managed to overcome the shock in time to hug her back. Raoul gently untangled his fingers from my hair and brought his hand to rest on the small of my back. I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye. He was smiling broadly at the two of us. I could tell Chantal meant a lot to him, and seeing us becoming something akin to friends was making him ecstatic. I was glad I could make him so happy; after what he did, welcoming Meg and Madame Giry so unquestioningly just because I loved them…I would welcome these friends of his.

As Chantal pulled away to embrace Raoul, I couldn't help but feel a little jealous. After I had gone to the ballet, this was the woman who had taken my place in Raoul's life. It wasn't that I didn't trust Raoul. I did. I trusted him with my life, my heart, everything.

"I don't want it to be this long before we see one another again," Raoul whispered.

"No," Chantal agreed from his arms, "If that ends up being the case, I'll be an old spinster before I see you." Raoul chuckled his wonderful laugh. The painful knot of jealousy vanished at that sound. It was, quite possibly, my favorite sound.

Chantal pulled away and placed a delicate kiss on his cheek. To anyone else, it would have appeared to be a harmless, platonic show of affection. But to me, in my slightly jaded point of view, it lasted just a split second too long. And when she pulled away, she seemed to linger just centimeters away from his cheek much longer then was necessary.

They (much to my relief) broke apart. After a final round of farewells, the mother and daughter departed, leaving the four of us.

"Oh," Meg exclaimed, "It was so much fun!" I knew the isolation of the country didn't suit Meg; she was just glad to see new people again.

"I'm glad you enjoyed yourself," Raoul said as he resumed his place at my side, one hand pulling me close. "Did you enjoy yourself, Madame Giry?" She had been withdrawn for some time, not that that wasn't a usual appearance for her. But she was much more closed off than usual these days.

"Hmm?" She pulled out of her reverie. "Oh yes, it was marvelous," she said somewhat despondently. I frowned slightly at her response. I had just worked up the nerve to ask her about her recent behavior when she abruptly excused herself, saying she was exhausted.

"I don't understand what's wrong with her," Meg said to no one in particular.

Raoul made some sort of a noncommittal grunt as he stared thoughtfully at the hallway in which Madame Giry had disappeared in.

"What?" I questioned gently. He just shook his head, indicating he had nothing to tell.

"Perhaps I should find what's troubling her," Meg whispered. "I'm not sure I can take _this_"—she made a general gesture with her hands—"any longer." I nodded my agreement.

Still puzzling her mother's recent behavior to herself, she wandered out of the ballroom. I chewed thoughtfully on my bottom lip. In all my years of knowing Madame Giry, I had not known her to be so withdrawn. Sure, she always had an aura of mystery about her, but she never shut people out like this. Especially not Meg or me.

My thoughts were interrupted by two soft, very familiar lips being pressed against my neck.

"And did Little Lotte enjoy herself?" Raoul mumbled into my neck. I giggled and squirmed away from the ticklish sensation his breath caused.

"Oh, very much." I allowed myself to be wrapped again in his arms. He kissed me lightly.

After a moment, Raoul brought himself to break the comfortable silence. "Would you like to go for a walk? Or are you tired?" I grinned up at him.

"A walk would be nice." He smiled a smile that made me glad his arms were around me, lest my knees give way.

He led me into the entryway, and called for a servant to bring us our coats. The servant arrived in no time with Raoul's long, leather coat and a heavy cloak for me. Raoul shrugged his jacket on quickly before turning to help me with mine. He made a face as if he had just remembered something, and started to walk away. Confused, I made to follow, but he shook his head.

"It'll only be a moment, Little Lotte," he assured me and was gone. I bit my lip, but remained were he left me. True to his word, he was back in minute with something very obviously hidden behind his back. I cocked my head at him.

"And what was so pressing to retrieve?"

"Close your eyes," he softly commanded. I threw him one last suspicious look before obliging. I felt him coming closer to me. He softly put his fingers to skin on my neck.

"Raoul?" Even through my eyelids, I could tell he was smiling. He said nothing, but wrapped some piece of fabric around my neck.

"A scarf?" I questioned, still obediently keeping my eyes closed. My stomach twisted excitedly as I began to guess what it was.

"Open them," he whispered, placing a warm hand to my cheek. One look at his face told me that I was right. My suspicions were confirmed the second I looked down and caught I glimpse of red.

"After I went to so much trouble to retrieve it for you, I was beginning to wonder where it had gone." I bit my lip at the sweetness of this action.

"I love you," I whispered. I just smiled back at me and took my hand.

"I love you too, Little Lotte," he said, leading me out of the estate.

The night was crisp but not too cold. The moon was almost full, so there was no lack of light. Raoul picked a direction at random, and we simply started walking. I loved this. We had gone on walks like these countless times. Walks that had no destination, no purpose really. It was nice to have no pressure to get anywhere on time or to have something that needed to be done or anyone that needed to be seen. We could just walk together until exhaustion or hunger called us back to reality.

A couple of snowflakes drifted down towards the ground, and I pulled away from Raoul. I opened my arms as if to welcome the snow. I spun around gracefully going up onto one toe, testimony to my extensive dance training. Raoul's laugh (in my opinion, the sweetest sound on earth) brought my spinning to a stop.

I shot him a mock irritated look. "What?" I shook his head, and smiled with utmost sincerity that I immediately dropped my irritated façade. He approached me with, what appeared to be, nothing but adoration in his eyes. I noticed the mischief glinting in his eyes a second too late. And, before I knew it, with practiced fingers Raoul expertly snatched my scarf from my neck.

I stood there, mouth slightly agape as he darted away. Once he was safely out of reach, he held out my scarf triumphantly still laughing. I regained my composure, and turned to face him, calling of my acting skill to fight a smile from my face.

"Raoul," I said his name warningly, taking a single, small step towards him.

"Oh, I apologize, mademoiselle," he said, giving a bow. "Is this yours?" I nodded and took another step towards him. In response, he merely took an even larger step in the opposite direction.

"Well, I'm not so sure about that." He grinned, clearly enjoying himself. "You see, mademoiselle, I went to great trouble, at great personal risk too, to retrieve this for a pretty, little girl once."

"And what was this girl's name?" I asked, playing along. I never grew tired of seeing him in such a playful mood. All during our time at the Opera, we always had to be so serious and formal. But now….things could be different.

"I didn't say she was memorable." I raised my eyebrows. He pretended to think. "Well, let me see. I believe it started with a C."

"Chantal?" I suggested, cursing myself when my voice quivered. He was sure to pick up on that. He didn't disappoint me as his smile faded.

'No,' I thought silently. 'My insecurities shouldn't mar this moment.' I fought a playful twinkle back into my eyes which he seemed to believe. At least temporarily, I fully expected to be questioned about it later.

"No," he said, smiled returning. "I happen to know a Chantal, and this girl was much prettier." Such a blatant comment coming from Raoul made me blush. He smiled upon seeing the redness in my cheeks.

"I think I have it," he whispered, coming closer now.

When he didn't say anything right away, I spoke up. "Yes?"

"Carlotta?" I allowed a little indignant gasp at that.

"You truly are horrible, Vicomte," I whispered as he laughed. After a moment his laughter was replaced by a loving smile, and he moved closer yet.

"No," he whispered, drawing me into his arms. "I remember now." He pulled away just enough to look me in the eye. He reached in and placed a kiss on my forehead.

"Christine," he stated. He then placed another kiss on my cheek. "Christine," he repeated. He then pushed his lips to mine, which I graciously received. "Christine," he mumbled a final time into my mouth.

He pulled away and cupped my face in his hands. "You're cold," he commented, rewrapping my scarf around my neck.

"I wouldn't be if I had had my scarf." He smiled.

"Am I really that horrible?"

I nodded enthusiastically. "Yes," I agreed. "Really, truly."

"Hmmm," he commented indifferently, pulling me back into his arms. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, placing a single delicate kiss there. I sighed contentedly, feeling I could sleep right there despite the fact that I was standing and the cold.

"You're tired," Raoul commented. I smiled against his skin at that. The only other person who had known so well was my father.

"We should go back." I shook my head.

"Not yet."

"I will not have my fiancé catch her death out in this cold," he said firmly.

"It's not that cold," I commented lightly. But he would not be swayed. He let go of my body and grabbed my hand.

"Time for your horrible fiancé to get you inside." He made to leave, but I stood rooted to the spot.

"You're not horrible, Raoul." I just wanted to make sure he knew that. After having come so close to losing him once, I hated to think that we would ever leave things on poor terms. Even if we were only joking.

He smiled and pulled me into him again. "Don't worry," he whispered into my hair. "I know I'm incredible." I felt his smile and shook my head against his chest.

"Maybe you are horrible." It was his turn to chuckle.

**A/N**

**I feel so bad. I hate writers block, but I made myself write this one. I'm afraid that if I go back and edit it too much I'll end up hating it, deleting it, and making you guys wait another 2 months. So sorry. I saw Phantom on Broadway! It was so freaking cool! OMG! So much fun! But I'm really sorry about the wait. So I decided to make this one fairly fluffy. Depending on how much longer this guilt plagues me (and how many reviews I get wink, wink) I might write another version of this chapter from Raoul's POV later today or tomorrow. I'm so sorry. Really I am. I've also been toying with the idea of writing a Tony/Michelle 24 fic. Anyone out there like 24? **


	10. Nightmares

**Disclaimer: Do you really think I own anything?**

**This is for Jaycee27**

**Christine's POV**

_Floating_

_Falling_

_Sweet intoxication_

I was back in his lair again. My eyes darted furiously around for some, any, route of escape. But everywhere I turned _he _was still there. He reached out an arm, summoning me. By some unknown power, I was pulled into his cold embrace.

_Touch me_

_Trust me_

_Savor each sensation_

I gagged as his hands floated carelessly around my body. In vain, I attempted to pull free.

_Let the dream begin_

_Let your darker side give in_

_To the power of the music_

_That I write_

_The power of the music of the…_

His grip slackened, and I seized the opportunity to rip myself from his arms.

_Night_

His voice followed me like a plague as I plunged into the ice cold water. I braced my knees expecting to hit the bottom, but instead I found myself falling into nothingness. I gasped for air that wasn't there. When I was a breath away from unconsciousness, I landed in another terrifying scene.

_You've past the point of no return_

I tried once again to run, but his gaze alone held me fast. Then, against my will, I found myself singing.

_You have brought me_

_To that moment when words run dry_

_To that moment when speech disappears _

_Into silence_

_Silence_

'No! No!' I thought furiously. 'Stop!'

_I have come here_

_Hardly knowing the reason why_

_In my mind_

_I've already imagined_

_Our bodies entwining_

_Defenseless and silent_

_Now I am here with you_

_No second thoughts_

_I've decided_

_Decided_

My legs started towards the stairs while mouth continued those hated lyrics.

_Past the point of no return_

_No going back now_

_Our passion play_

_Has now_

_At last begun_

_Past _

_All thought of right or wrong_

_One final question_

_How long should we two wait before we're one?_

With supreme effort of will, I forced my eyes of his horrid, masked face. I looked desperately around for help. My eyes settled on Raoul, sitting in box five.

'Raoul!' I tried to call out for help, but the words wouldn't come. It was then I noticed that tears. I exhaled sharply in pain. _I_ was the cause of those tears. Before I had anymore time to comprehend it, I was forced to look back upon the monster.

_When will the blood begin to race?_

_The sleeping bud burst into bloom?_

_When will the flames at last_

_Consume_

_Us_

I was utterly revolted by what I was saying. I prayed in vain for the will power to break his spell. My prayer went unanswered.

_Past the point of no return_

_The final threshold_

_The bridge is crossed_

_So stand_

_And watch it burn_

_We've past the point of no return_

As we met in the middle, I was able to catch another glimpse of Raoul. My heart shattered at the sight of him.

'Oh god, please just end this.' My eyes fluttered shut, and I was given my wish. When I opened them, I was alone. The room was unbearably dark, save for a single eerie glow a few yards ahead of me. Unable to take the darkness, I began towards the light. Even from a distance, I could see the silhouette of a person. I quickened my pace at the thought of finding another human being in this insufferable night. I was sprinting now. Before I knew it, I was there. It was a man, hanging in midair.

My breath caught in my throat as I realized he was dead, dangling from a Punjab lasso. With great trepidation, I reached out to spin him around.

Handsome face, blonde hair, blue eyes now closed forever. "Raoul!" I screamed.

"Christine." I whipped around to see a pair of haunting grey eyes floating before me. I screamed one final time before…nothing.

"Christine! Christine! It's me; calm down!" Blue eyes replaced the grey ones that had haunted my dream. Even now, I could not shake them from my mind. They had frightened me more than the Phantom ever had.

"Raoul," I whimpered.

"Shh," I whispered, pulling me into his chest (Even in my current state, I couldn't help but notice it was bare. This was enough to bring a blush to my pale cheeks.). "It's all right."

"It was awful," I cried. Raoul's only response was to tighten his hold on me. I knew these nightmares elicited a mixture of regret and hatred from him. He wanted nothing more than to kill the Phantom for these nightly hauntings. And he would always regret his inability to save me that night long ago. Despite my constant assurances that he'd done all he could, he remained buried underneath guilt and remorse. I could tell he would bear those burdens until the day he died.

"He wouldn't let me go…and then I couldn't stop…you were dead…" My thoughts came out as an incoherent babble, but I didn't want to revisit the dream long enough to explain it properly. Raoul understood this and didn't press for a better account. I loved for this. God, I loved him.

"Christine." I jumped up sharply, looking frantically about the room for the source of the voice. I knocked Raoul sharply in the jaw, but he gave no outward sign of pain.

"Christine?" Raoul asked, uncertainly. I hadn't heard voices since my days with the Phantom. But that voice I heard wasn't the Phantom's voice. No, I knew his voice all too well. That voice was unfamiliar.

"Did you hear that?" I asked, my eyes still darting around the room.

"Here what?" Raoul gently ran his hands up and down my arms in an attempt to soothe me. It did very little.

"Nothing." I knew I did not sound very convincing. "Nothing," I repeated, more for myself than anybody. For an unknown reason, the pair of grey eyes I'd seen in my dream came, unbidden, to thought.

After a moment, Raoul spoke. "Christine," he said, his voice laced with concern. "You're shaking. Come on." He pulled the blankets back a gestured for me to climb in. I did as he said. His eyes met mine, and we sat there in silence. "Sleep."

"Will you stay?" He smiled a moved to lie next to me. I shifted so he had room to place his head on my pillow. He pulled me so we were laying stomach to back. After all extra space between us had been erased; he finally asked me a question.

"Was it the same dream as always?"

I knew why he was asking the question. My reaction upon waking up had been unusual. I knew I had acted more distraught than I ever had in the past. I hesitated. I had no secrets from him, but I couldn't tell him about the eyes. I had no idea why not. Every time I tried to open my mouth to explain, the words got caught in the throat. Finally, I whispered, "No." I felt rather than saw him nod before he kissed the back of my head.

"Good night, love," he mumbled into the back of my head.

"Sleep well," I whispered back.

An hour later found Raoul sound asleep and me wide awake. Usually, Raoul's presence was enough to soothe me back to sleep. But not this time.

Carefully, I twisted around so I was facing him. His face was so innocent when he slept. I gently lifted a hand to brush a stray lock of hair away from his eyes. His beautiful, blue eyes that were a far cry from the eyes that now haunted me. I contemplated waking him just to see them. I knew he would be kind and gracious about the disruption. I knew that he would hold me, whispering sweet nothings in my ear, until I fell asleep. But I couldn't bring myself to bother him. Besides, waking him up would only bring about more questions than I was ready to answer. I would tell him everything, of course.

"But not yet," I whispered to myself. I placed one final, loving kiss on his lips before drifting of to my own fitful sleep.

**A/N**

**I'm not dead. I swear. Just lazy, and very sorry.I know it's short too, but bear with me.I haven't proof read this either, but if I do I'll never post it. So excuse the mistakes. I am really sorry. Really, really. Thank Jaycee27. She's the one the messaged me and got me off my lazy butt to write this. For future reference, if I ever do this again, just message me. My guilt complex will kick in and you'll have a chapter within 24 hours. Do you just love that about me? Now I honestly know what I'm going to write for the next chapter, but I'm going out of town next week. So it may or may not be up before then. I'll try because I still feel bad. Until next time! Ta!**


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